


5^: 




Book ->3 -' 



BALLADS: 

%mutu, iniutml, sni '^nmaxm. 




THii CUbiOM UK DLNMOW. 



(See page 5. 



BALLADS, 

EOMANTIC, PANTASTICAL, AND HUMOROUS, 

TO WHICH IS ADDED 

COMBAT OF THE THIETY. 

MPEISING A NEW CHAPTER OF FEOISSAET. 



BY 



WILLIAM HARRISON AINSWORTH. 

M 



MllmtxniRh bg mx |oIjn mhzxU S^.g^gi. 



* 

LONDON: 
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, 

: THE BROADWAY, LUDGATE. 

j NEW YORK: 416, BROOME STREET. 






LONDON : 

«itTIU^, 151}WAEDS AND CO., PRINTERS, CHANDOS STREET, 

COVENT GARTJEN. 



CONTENTS. 



f tpliarj snir pmantit §slMs. 

FAOB 

THE CUSTOM OF DUNMOW : SHOWING HOW IT AROSE . . 3 

THE LEGEND OP THE LIME-TREE 11 

THE LEGEND OP THE LADY OP ROOK.WOOD 15 

CHARLES IX. AT MONTPAUCON 20 

YOLANDE 25 

ESCLAIRMONDE 28 

YUSEP AND ZORAYDA 31 

THE LEGEND OP VALDEZ 36 

DITTY OP DTJ GUESCLIN 40 

THE SWORD OP BAYARD 43 

THE SCOTTISH CAVALIER 47 

THE BLOOD-RED KNIGHT 49 

^MN OP THE CONSPIRATORS IN THE GUNPOWDER PLOT . 51 



■^"1 CONTENTS. 

TAOE 
DIRGE OF BOURBON 53 

ANACREONTIC ODE 55 

MARGUERITE DE VALOIS , 57 

THE ADMIRAJBLE CRICHTON 60 

THE THREE ORGIES 63 

ALL-SPICE, OR A SPICE OE ALL 69 

DEATH TO THE HUGUENOT 72 

LA GITANILLA 73 

<THE TWICE-USED RING 76 

THE SOUL BELL 78 

iHYMN TO SAINT THECLA 80 

HYMN TO SAINT CYPRIAN 83 

THE CHURCHYARD YEW » ... 85 

BLACK BESS 87 

THE OLD OAK COEEIN , » . 92 

THE sorcerers' SABBATH 991 

INCANTATION ]09| 

THE WONDROUS STONE ll] 

THE CRYSTAL VASE IK 



CONTENTS. "VU . 

PAGE 
THE NAMELESS VITCH . . « .117 

THE TEMPTATION OP SAINT ANTHONY « . ., . . . . 120 

INSCRIPTION ON A GOLDEN KEY ......... 127 

A MIDNIGHT MEETING OP THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES . . 128 

THE MANDRAKE , . . 139 

EPHIALTES 148 

THE CORPSE-CANDLE 146 

THE HAND OF GLORY 148 

THE CARRION CROW 150 

THE headsman's AXE 152 

THE CHRONICLE OF GARGANTUA . , 157 

MY OLD COMPLAINT: ITS CAUSE AND CURE 162 

JOLLY NOSE 165 

THE wine-drinker's DECLARATION . 167 

WITH MY BACK TO. THE EIRE 169 

THE OLD water-drinker's GRAYE 170 

cider op devonshire 171 

"venite potemus ....,, 174, 

THE scholar's LITANY *.,......... 176 



YUl CONTENTS. 

TXCtJt 

ALE AND SACJC ... * 177 

DRUID . 179 

THE THIETY REQUISITES 181 

iOVE*S HOMILY 183 

A CHAPTER or HIGHWAYMEN 185 

THE RAPPAREES 189 

A ROMANY CHANT 195 

OLIVER WHIDDLES . . , . 200 

WILL DAVIES AND DICK TURPIN . 201 

THE FOUR CAUTIONS 203 

THE DOUBLE CROSS 205 

THE MODERN GREEK 208 

PLM)GE OF THE HIGHWAYMAN 212 

THE GAME OP HIGH TOBY 2l4< 

THE SCAMPSMAN . . • 217 

THE KNIGHT OF MALTA . 219 

SAINT Giles's bowl , . ^27 

THE NEWGATE STONE 230 

THE carpenter's DAUGHTER « . , 232 

OWEN WOOD . 233 

KING FROG AND QUEEN CRANE 235 



CONTENTS. IX 

PAGB 

MARLBROOK TO THE WARS IS COMING 237 

THE BOOTS OF MARLBROOK 239 

A YEAR AND A DAY 242 

THE BALLAD OE THE BEARD 245 

OLD GRINDROD's GHOST 248 

THE BARBER OP RIPON AND THE GHOSTLY BASIN . . . 253 

ELEGY ON THE CARDINAL BORROMEO 259 

CONGRATULATORY ADDRESS TO GASPAR VISCQNTI . , . 269 

INTRODUCTION, CONTAINING A NEW CHAPTER OP FROISSART 277 

fYTTE YE FIRST. THE DEFIANCE 293 

FYTTE TE SECOND. OF THE COMBAT, AND THE GREAT 

FEATS OF ARMS DONE THEREAT 305 

FITTE YE THIRD. YET MORE OP TKS SAME COMBAT; 
HOW SLR ROBERT BEMBROUGH WAS SLAIN ; AND OP 
THE SHREWD DEVICE OF GUILLAUME DE MONTAUBAN, 
WHEREBY THE BRETONS GAINED THE DAY .... 314 
l'envoy 326 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



PAGB 

THE CUSTOM OF DUNMow To face the Title, y 

LEGEND OE THE LADY OE EOOKWOOD 15 \/ 

THE SWORD OF BAYARD 43^ 

THE TEMPTATION OE SAINT ANTHONY ........ 120*'''^ 

MY OLD COMPLAINT 162^ 

A ROMANY CHANT „ , 195^ 

WILL DAVIES AND DICK TURPIN 201*^ 

A YEAR AND A DAY 242^ 



WILLIAM HAERISON AINSWORTH. 

Contributed to the Manchester School Register, vol. iii. pp. 122-5 , 

BY JAMES CBOSSLEY, ESQ., F.S.A., 

President of the Chetham Society. 



Of the extensively popular and distinguished novelist, 
William Harrison Ainsworth, an interesting memoir has been 
written by Mr. Laman Blanchard, which is prefixed to 
the later editions of Roohcood. To this, which gives in fuller 
detail than our limits will allow, the facts and circumstances 
connected with his earlier career as an author, we have great 
pleasure in referring our readers. Our summary must necessarily 
be of a briefer character, more especially as the literary life of 
this eminent writer is not yet closed ; and we may still reason- 
ably look forward to a large and welcome addition to the long 
series of his novels. 



XIV WILLIAM HAERTSON AINSWOETH. 

William Harrison Ainsworth was born in King Street, Man- 
chester, at the house of his father, who was a solicitor of high 
standing and extensive practice, on the 4th February, 1805. His 
paternal grandfather, Jeremiah Ainsworth, one of the founders 
of the Lancashire School of Geometry, has already been noticed 
(vol. ii. p. 48). By the side of his mother, Ann, the daughter 
of the Rev. Ralph Harrison, he was descended from a line of 
Nonconformists, some of whom Calamy has embalmed in his 
pages. William Harrison, who was gifted by nature with a fine 
constitution, high spirits, and a most joyous temperament, after 
receiving elementary tuition from his uncle, the Rev. William 
Harrison, who held a highly respectable rank as a teacher, be- 
came on the 20th March, 1817, a scholar of the Manchester 
Eree Grammar School, where he remained for some years. A 
vivid sketch, in which he has brought the school and its 
masters with such life and spirit before us, appears in 
Mervyn Clillieroe. At the annual recitations he appeared 
to great advantage, and his remarkably handsome face, ex- 
cellent delivery and perfect self-possession are still recollected 
by the surviving attenders of those interesting occasions, and 
never failed to bring down plaudits from the audience. Of Dr. 



WIILIAM HAEEISON AI^^SWOETH. XV 

Smith he was always a great favourite, and that sagacious master 
well understood that he was no common boy. While at school 
and afterwards he went through a large amount of miscellaneous 
reading, in which, besides recourse to his father's collection,, 
which was a good one, he had the advantage, a benefit which 
Thomas de Quincey had availed himself of before him, of the old 
Exchange Circulating Library, now broken up and dispersed, in 
which there was an ample if not select table provided with 
dishes of all sorts, from Amadis of Gaul and Palmerin of Eng- 
land to Bryant's Mphology, and Cudworth's Intellectual System. 
On leaving the Eree Grammar School he was placed by his father 
with Mr. Alexander Kay, an able and experienced solicitor, 
afterwards Mayor of Manchester, with a view to his succeeding 
to the well-established business which his father carried on in 
partnership with his son's early and intimate friend, the present 
president of the Chetham Society. 

Mr. Thomas Ainsworth, the father, to whose energy and public 
spirit t:he improvements in Manchester were materially indebted, 
died at a comparatively speaking early age, in 1824. His son, 
Williaito Harrison, went through the regular legal curriculum, and 
from ]Mr, Kay's office in Manchester proceeded to Mr. Jacob 



XVI WILLIAM HAEEISON AINSWOETH. 

Phillips's chambers in King's Bench Walks to be perfected in the 
higher mysteries of conveyancing. Here he copied precedents, and 
we have a folio volume in which his labours are embodied, but the 
rule in Shelley's case and Fearne's contingent remainders had r 
charms for him. His aspirations were of another kind — to give 
new associations to the name of Ainsworth unconnected with 
Law, Mathematics or Lexicography — in short, to enter upor* a 
literary career; and to know and be known by the learltng 
authors of the day, exchanging Manchester with all its prospects 
for the great metropolis. In this resolve he was confirmed by 
marrying (October, 1826) Ann Frances, the beautiful daughter 
of Mr. John Ebers, of Old Bond Street, the lessee of the Opera 
House, whose London connexions were large and extensive ; and 
he accordingly became settled in the midst of the world of letters 
and fashion. For some time he carried on the business of a 
publisher, and several works of interest and value Lnay be 'found 
with his name attached ; but this, after giving it a full aijid fair 
trial, he thought fit for wise reasons to discontinue; hiaving. 
however, acquired an experience from his publishing operjations 
which was afterwards undoubtedly beneficial to him. During all 
this period—at school, while going through his profeisional 



WILLIAil HARBISON AINSWOETH. XVll 

education in Manchester and London, and the years which im- 
mediately followed — he devoted the greater part of his leisure to 
contributing, sometimes solely, sometimes with a friendly colla- 
borateur, to various periodicals ; commencing with Arliss's little 
but elegantly illustrated magazine, and proceeding onward to 
those of larger size and greater pretensions. But, leaving these 
prolusions, as well as the separate works in poetry and prose, of 
what we may style the prse-Rookwoodian Era, to be indicated and 
enumerated by his future biographer — and biography has nothing 
more interesting than the examination of the early works of suc- 
cessful writers — we must come to the production which first 
gave Mr. Ainsworth a solid footing as an author. This was the 
striking, and in many respects unequal, story of Rookwood, but 
in which was contained what was at once acknowledged to be a 
masterpiece of descriptive power ; we need not add that we refer 
lo Turpin's celebrated Eide to York, which at once, delighting 
the young and the old, established the writer as a favourite 
of the reading public. Bookwodd was followed by Cnchtouy 
which sustained, if it did not increase, the reputation Mr. 
Ainsworth had acquired. Most of the works which succeeded 
appeared originally in a serial form either in Bentley's Miscellany^ 

b 



XVIU WILLIAM HAEETSON AINSWORTH. 

AinsworWs Magazine, the Sunday Times, or in monthly numbers, 
and were afterwards collected into volumes. The first of these 
was the wonderfully popular and much calumniated Jack 
Sheppard, which, admirably illustrated by George Cruikshank, 
was universally read ; and, by its extraordinary success, called 
forth attacks on all sides, and a spirit which, to lovers of fair 
play, looked very much like persecution. On this subject, we 
cannot do better than refer to Laman Blanchard's very sensible 
remarks in his Memoir. 

The storm which Jach Sheppard had evoked was in a great 
measure appeased by the Tower of London, which deals with a 
higher class of criminals, and must always be placed amongst the 
best, if it be not indeed the best of the author's historical novels. 
During the last thirty years it has certainly lost none of its 
original popularity. Its great success gave occasion to a large 
dinner, which we well remember, in which were present, by 
Mr. Ainsworth's invitatipn, the leading authors, critics, artists, 
and publishers of London, and at which Serjeant (afterwards) 
Judge Talfourd presided. We doubt much whether, amongst 
the many similar celebrations which have since occurred in 
London, there has been any which went off more brilliantly, or 



WILLIAM HAEEISOK" AINSWOETH. XIX 

wiiii which the author, in compiiment of whom the gathering 
took place, had better reason to be satisfied. The narrow limits 
of this notice necessarily prevent more than a simple enumeration 
of the titles of the novels which Mr. Ainsworth's creative power 
aiivi extraordinary fertility have produced, from the date of 
Rookwood (1834) to the present time. One of them we 
must not, however, omit to single out from the rest — Mervyii 
Clitheroe — as it gives many graphic sketches of the friends and 
scenes with which he was familiar in boyhood. Another, The 
Lancashire Witches, dedicated to his old friend, the President of 
the Chetham Society, in which, with great artistic skill, he has 
worked up the materials contained in two works in the Chetham 
series of very different character — Potts's Discover;!/ and Nicolas 
AssheforCs Journal — will always have a peculiar interest as a 
powerful and striking delineation of the grand superstition 
of his native county. Nor should it be omitted that to the 
very pleasing story, the Flitch of Bacon, we owe, under thp. 
auspices of Mr. Ains worth, the temporary revival of one of the 
most curious and interesting of the old customs of England, 
the giving of the flitch at Great Dunmow. We proceed to 
the list :— 



"WILLIAM HAEEISON AIKSWOETH. 



Roolcwood, 1834. 

Crickton, 1837. 

Jach Sheppard, 1839. 

Tower of London, 1840. 

Guy FawTces, 1841. 

Old St. Paul's, 1841. 

The Miser's Daughter, 1842. 

Windsor Castle, 1843. 

St. James's, or. the Court of 

Queen Anne, 1844. 
Lancashire Witches, 1848. 
Star- Chamber, 1854. 
Flitch of Bacon, 1854. 
Spendthrift, 1856. 
Mervyn Clitheroe, 1857. 



Ovingdean Grange, 1860. 
Constable of the Tower, 1861. 
io?'cZ Mayor of London, 1862. 
Cardinal Pole, 1863. 
Jb^rt Zaw fJ^e Projector, 1864. 
TAe Spanish Match, or Charles 

Stuart in Madrid ^ 1865. 
Myddleton Pomfret, 1865. 
TAe Constable de Bourbon, 1866. 
OM (7oMr«, 1867. 
TAe -SoM^^ /Sea Bubble, 1868. 
iJtZar?/ /S^. /^gs, 1869. 
Talbot Harland, 1870, 
ToM7er Hill, 1871. 
Boscobel, 1872. 



That in so long a series, and dealing with scenes and periods 
and subjects so diversified, Mr. Ains worth should still have 
retained his hold upon public favour, as is sufficiently evidenced 
by the continually repeated impressions of his works both here, 
on the Continent, in America, and our colonial dependencies, and 
the translations of them into most of the languages of Europe, 
is an ample proof that he possesses those sterling qualities, as a 
writer of fiction, which will insure permanence to his name as an 
author. To continue to please the public by successive pro- 



WILLIAM HAEEISO!^ AINSWOETH. XXI 

ductions during a period of nearly forty years is a distinction 
accorded to few. 

We must not forget to notice the collection of Mr. Ainsworth's 
ballads, published in 1855, which makes us regret that he has 
not continued to cultivate a species of composition for which he 
seems to have a peculiar talent. Nor can we pass by The Combat 
of the Tldrty, from an old Breton Lay of the \Uh Century, 1859, 
8vo, a most spirited and excellent version which we should be 
glad to see in an illustrated form, which is all that is needed to 
give it an extensive popularity. 

Mr. John Forster, in the first volume of his Life of Charles 
BicJcens, has referred with evident pleasure to the kindly inter- 
course which existed between the far-famed Boz, himself, and 
Mr. Ainsworth, in the days gone by. We believe there is no one 
connected with literature, who has been brought within the 
range of the genial sympathy, the considerate feeling, and hearty 
and liberal hospitality of the subject of this notice, who will not 
have equal pleasure in looking back to the occasions when they 
met. We are sure there are no reminiscences that dwell more 
agreeably on our minds than of the days when Kensal Manor 
House, on the Harrow Road, where Mr. Ainsworth resided for 



XXU WILLIAM HAEEISON AINSWOETH. 

many years, was a central point for literary men ; and when, after 
sitting under an admirable host and enjoying the conversation 
of men whom it was always a delight to meet, the guests were 
serenaded on those fine summer evenings as they went homewards 
by the nightingales which had not then deserted that part of the 
suburbs of London. Erom Kensal Manor House Mr. Ainsworth 
removed to Brighton, and thence to Tunbridge Wells, but now 
resides with his eldest daughter at Hurstpierpoint. He has 
likewise a residence at Reigate. 

Mr. Ainsworth is a widower, his wife, Anne Frances, having 
died on the 6th March, 1838, leaving three daughters now living : 
1, Panny ; 2, Emily Mary ; 3, Blanche, married to Major Swanson, 
Royal Artillery. His mother, Mrs. Ann Ainsworth, who 
inherited all the business talents of her father, the Rev. 
Ralph Harrison, one of those prescient spirits who looked 
forward to the immense growth of Manchester, died in 
March, 1842. 

One of the advantages of the eminent authors of the present 
day is the admirable manner in which, as a rule, they have been, 
represented pictorially. The portraits of Pickersgill andMaclise 
will always give, as far as painting can, to those unacquainted 



WILLIAM HAEEISON AIIfSWOETH. XXlU 

with the original, a perfect idea of the author of Rookwood when 
in the full bloom of age and authorship. 

Mr. Ainsworth was present at the great banquet in October, 
1871, commemorating the new erections of the Manchester Tree 
Grammar School, the Earl of Derby presiding ; and, in an in- 
teresting and very appropriate speech, from which, if our space 
had allowed, we should have wished to have given some ex- 
tracts, took a review of the alumni, who in former days had 
done honour to the school.— (•. 



ffigmkrg m)i '^mmik ^allak. 



THE CTJSTOM OF DUNMOW. 

SHOWING HOW IT AE06j£. 

A Fond Couple make a Vow before the Good Prior of the Convent 
of our Lady of Dunmow, that they have loved each other well 
and truly for a Twelvemonth and a Day ; and crave his 
Blessing. 

L 

" What seek ye here, my children deai- ? 

Why kneel ye down thus lowly 
Upon the stones, beneath the porch 

Of this our Convent holy ? " 
The Prior old the pair bespoke 

In faltering speech, and slowly. 
B 2 



THE CUSTOM OF DUNMOW. 
II. 

Their modest garb would seem proclaim 

The pair of low degree, 
But though in cloth of frieze arrayed, 

A stately vouth was he : 
"While she, who knelt down by his side. 

Was beautiful to see. 



in. 
" A Twelvemonth and a Day hare fled 

Since first we were united ; 
And from that hour/' the young man said, 

" No change our hopes has blighted. 
Fond faith with fonder faith we've paid. 

And love with love requited. 



IT. 

" True to each other have we been; 
No dearer object seeing. 



THE CUSTOM OF DUNMOW. 

Than each has in the other found; 

In everything agreeing. 
And every look, and word, and deed 

That breed dissension fleeing. 

T. 

" All this we swear, and take in proof 

Our Lady of Dunmow ! 
For She, who sits with saints above, 

Well knows that it is so. 
Attest our Yow, thou reverend man, 

And bless us, ere we go ! " 

VI. 

The Prior old stretch' d forth liis hands 
" Heaven prosper ye !" quo' he ; 

" O'er such as ye, right gladly we 
Say ' Benedicite /' " 

On this, the kneeling pair uprose— 
Uprose full joyfully. 



THE CUSTOM OF DUNMOW. 



The Good Prior merrily bestoweth a boon upon the Loving Couple , 
and getteth a noble Recommence. 

I. 
Just then, pass'd by the Convent cook — 

And moved the young man's glee ; 
On his broad back a mighty Flitch 

Of Bacon brown bore he. 
So heavy was the load, I wis, 

It scarce mote carried be. 

II. 
" Take ye that Flitch," the Prior cried, 

" Take it, fond pair, and go : 
Fidelity like yours deserves 

The boon I now bestow. 
Go, feast your friends, and think upon 

The Convent of Dunmow." 



THE CUSTOM OF DUNMOW. 
III. 

" Good Prior," then the youth replied, 
"Thy gift to us is dear. 

Not for its worth, but that it shows 
Thou deem'st our love siucere. 

And in return broad lands I give- 
Broad lands thy Convent near ; 

Which shall to thee and thine produce 
A Thousand Marks a Year ! 

rv. 
" But this Condition I annex, 

Or else the Grant's forsaken : 
That whensoe'er a pair shall come. 

And take the Oath we've taken. 
They shall from thee and thine receive 

A goodly Flitch of Bacon. 

V. 

"* And thus from out a simple chance 
A usage good shall grow; 



THE CUSTOM OP DUNMOW. 

And our example of true love 

Be held up evermo' : 
While all who win the prize shall bless 

The Custom of Duumow." 



VI. 

"Who art thou, son?" the Prior cried; 

His tones with wonder falter — 
" Thou shouldst not jest with reverend men, 

Nor with their feelings palter." 
" I jest not. Prior, for know in me 

Sir Reginald Pitzwalter. 



VII. 

** I now throw oif my humble garb, 
As I what I am, confest ; 

The wealthiest I of wealthy men. 
Since with this treasure blest." 

And as he spoke, Pitzwalter clasp'd 
His lady to his breast. 



THE CUSTOM OF DL'NMOW. 
"Vin. 

" In peasant gxiise mj love I won. 
Nor knew she whom she wedded ; 

In peasant cot our truth we tried. 
And no disunion dreaded. 

Twelve months' assurance proves our faith 
On firmest base is steadied." 

IX. 

Joy reign'd within those Convent walls 

When the glad news was known; 
Joy reign'd within Mtzwalter's halls 

When there his bride was shown. 
No lady in the land such sweet 

Simplicity could own ; 
A natural grace had she, that all 

Art's graces far outshone : 
Beauty and worth for want of birth 

Abundantlv atone. 



10 THE CUSTOM OF DUNMOW. 

f infrog. 
Hence the Custom. 

What need of more ? That Loving Pair 

Lived long and truly so ; 
Nor ever disunited were;— 

For one death laid them low ! 
And hence arose that Custom old— 

The Custom of Dunmow. 



IX 



THE LEGEND OF THE LIME TREE. 



Amid the grove o*er-arclied above with lime-trees old and tall ^ 
(The avenue that leads unto the Rookwood's ancient hall). 
High o'er the rest its towering crest one tree rears to the sky, 
And wide out-flings, like mighty wings, its arms umbrageously. 

Seven yards its base would scarce embrace — a goodly tree 1 
ween, 

With silver bark, and foKage dark of melancholy green ; 

And 'mid its boughs two ravens house, and build from year 
to year. 

Their black brood hatch — ^their black brood watch — ^then scream- 
ing disappear. 



12 THE LEGEND 01 THE LIME-TREE. 

In that old tree when playfully the summer breezes sigh, 

Its leaves are stirred, and there is heard a low and plaintive cry; 

And when in shrieks the storm blast speaks its reverend boughs 

among. 
Sad wailing moans, like human groans, the concert harsh prolong. 

But whether gale or cairn prevail, or threatening cloud hath fled, 
By hand of Fate, predestinate, a limb that tree will shed : 
A verdant bough, untouched, I trow, by axe or tempest's breath. 
To Rookwood's head an omen dread of fast-approaching death. 

Some think that tree instinct must be with preternatural power, 
Like 'larum bell Death's note to knell at Fate's appointed hour -^ 
While some avow that on its bough are fearful traces seen, 
Red as the stains from human veins commingling with the green. 

Others, again, there are maintain that on the shattered bark 
A print is made, where fiends have laid their scathing talons 

dark: 
That, ere it falls, the raven calls thrice from that wizard bough; 
And that each cry doth signify what space the Fates allow. 



THE LEGEND OF THE LIME-TREE. 13 

In olden days, the Legend says, as grim Sir Ranulph view'd 
A wretched hag her footsteps drag beneath his lordly wood, 
His blood-hounds twain he called amain, ^id straightway gave 

her chase : 
Was never seen in forest green, so fierce, so fleet a race ! 

With eyes of flame to Rannlph came each red and ruthless 

hound, 
While mangled, torn — a sight forlorn ! — the hag lay on the 

ground. 
E'en where she lay was turned the clay, and limb and reeking 

bone 
Within, the earth, with ribald mirth, by Eanulph grim were 

thrown. 

And while as yet the soil was wet with that poor witch's gore, 
A lime-tree stake did Hanulph take, and pierced her bosom*S' 

core. 
And, strange to teU, what next befel ! — ^that branch at once took 

root, 
And richly fed, within its bed, strong suckers forth did shoot. 



14 THE LEGEND OF THE LIME-TREE. 

rrom year to year fresh boughs appear — ^it waxes huge in size; 
And, with wild glee, this prodigy Sir Ranulph grim espies. 
One day, when he, beneath that tree, reclined in health and pride, 
A branch was found upon the ground — the next. Sir Ranulph 
died! 

And from that hour a fatal power has ruled that Wizard Tree, 
To Eanulph's line a warning sign of doom and destiny : 
For when a bough is found, I trow, beneath its shade to lie, 
Ere suns shall rise thrice in the skies a Rookwood sure shall 
die! 




LEGEND OF THE LADY OF KOCJKWOOD. 



15 



THE 



LEGEND OF THE LADY OF ROOKWOOD. 



Grim Ranidpli home hath at midnight come, from the long wai"S 

of the Koses, 
And the squire who waits at his ancient gates, a secret dark 

discloses ; 

To that varlet's words no response accords his lord, but his 

« 
aspect stern 

Grows ghastly white in the wan moonlight, and his eyes like the 

gannt wolf's bum. 

To his lady's bower, at that lonesome hour, unannounced is Sir 

ilanulph gone ; 
Through the dim corridor, through the hidden door, he glides — 

she is all alone ! 



16 THE LEGEND OF THE LADY OF ROOKWOOD. 

Full of holy zeal doth his young dame kneel at the meek 

Madonna's feet. 
Her hands are pressed on her gentle breast, and upturned, is her 

visage sweet. 

Beats Ranulph's heart with a joyful start, as he looks on her 

guiltless face ; 
And the raging fire of his jealous ire is subdued by the words of 

grace; 
His own name shares her murmured prayers — ^more freely can 

he breathe ; 
But ah ! that look ! Why doth he pluck his poniard from its 

sheath ? 



On a footstool thrown lies a costly gown of saye and of minevere, 

(A mantle fair for the dainty wear of a migniard cavalier), 

And on it flung, to a bracelet hung, a picture meets his 

eye;— 
*' By my father's head," grim Ranulph said, " false wife, thy 

end draws nigh." 



THE LEGEND OF THE LADY OF EOOKWOOD. 17 

From off its chain hatli the fierce knight ta'en that fond and 

fatal pledge ; 
His dark eyes blaze, no word he says, thrice gleams his dagger's 

edge ! 
Her blood it drinks, and, as she sinks, his victim hears his cry, 
" Tor kiss impure of paramour, adult'ress, dost thou die 1" 

Silent he stood, with hands embrued in gore, and glance of flame. 
As thus her plaint, in accents faint, made his ill-fated dame : 
" Kind Heaven can teU, that aU too weU, I've loved thee, cruel 

lord; 
But now with hate commensurate, assassin, thou'rt abhorred. 

" I've loved thee long, through doubt and wrong; I've loved 

thee, and no other ; 
And my love was pure, for my paramour, as thou caH'st him, 

was my brother ! 
The Red, Red Rose, on thy banner glows, on Us pennon gleams 

the White, 
And the bitter feud, that ye both have rued, forbids ye to unite. 

G 



18 THE LEGEND OF THE LADY OF ROOKWOOD. 

"My bower lie sought, wliat time he thought thy jealous vassals 

slept ; 
^f joy we dreamed, and never deemed that watch those vassals 

kept ; 
An hour flew by, too speedily ! — that picture was his boon : 
Ah ! little thrift to me that gift : he left me all too soon ! 

" Wo worth the hour ! dark fates did lower, when our hands 
were first united ! 

Pell lord, my truth, 'mid tears and ruth, with death hast thou 
requited : 

In prayer sincere, full many a year of my wretched life I've 
spent ; 

But to heU's control would I give my soul, to work thy chastise- 
ment !" 

These wild words said, low drooped her head, and Eanulph's 

life-blood froze, 
For the earth did gape, as an awful shape from out its depths 

arose: 



THE LEGEND OF THE juADY OF EOOKWOOD. 19 

" Thy prayer is heard. Hell liath concurred," cried the Fiend, 

" thy soul is mine ! 
Like fate may dread each dame shall wed with Ranulph or his 

line !" 



Within the tomb to await her doom is that hapless lady sleeping, 
And another bride by Ranulph's side through the livelong night 

is weeping. 
This dame declines — a third repines, and fades, Kke the rest, 

away: 
Her lot she rues, whom a Rookwood woos — cursed is her Wedding 

Bay! 



c3 



20 



CHARLES IX. AT MONTFAUCON. 



I. 

"To horse — ^to horse!" thus spake Kmg Charles, "to horse, my 

lords, with me, 
Unto Montfaucon will we ride — a sight you there shall see." 
" Montfaucon, sire ! " said his esquire — " what sight, my liege ? 

how mean ye?" 
■** The carcase stark of the traitor dark, and heretic Coligm." 

n. 

The trumpets bray, their chargers neigh a loud and glad reveille — - 
And plaudits riag, as the haughty king from the Louvre issues 

gaily; 
On his right hand rides his mother, with her dames — a gorgeous 

train — 
On his left careers his brother, with the proud Duke of Lorraine, 



CHAKLES IX. AT MONTFAUCON. 21 



III. 

Behind is seen his youthful Queen — the meek Elizabeth* — 
With her damsels bright, whose talk is light of the sad, sad show 

of death : — 
Ah, lovely ones ! — ah, gentle ones ! from the scoffer's judgment 

screen ye ! — 
Mock not the dust of the martyr'd just, for of such was good 

Cohgni. 

rv. 

By foot uphung, to flesh-hook strung, is now revealed to all, 
Moulderiag and shrunk, the headless trunk of the brave old 
admiral ; 

1 Elizabeth of Austria, daughter of the Emperor Maximilian, an 
amiable and excellent princess, whose genuine piety presented a striking 
contrast to the sanguinary fanaticism of her tyrannical and neglectful 
spouse. " O mon Dieu !" she cried, on the day of the massacre, of which 
she had been kept in ignorance ; " quels conseillers sont ceux-la, qui ont 
donne le roi tel avis ? Mon Dieu ! je te supphe, et je requiers de lui par- 
donner, car si tu n'en as pitie, j'ai grand peur que cette offense ne lui soit 
pas pardojmee." 



l^ CHARLES IX. AT MONTFAUCON. 

Gash-visaged Guise tlie sight dotli please — fierce Lord, was 

naught between ye ? 
In felon blow of base Poltrot^ no share had brave Coligni. 

** Now, by God's death ! " the monarch saith, with inauspicious 

smile. 
As, laughing, group the reckless troop round grey Montfaucon's 

pile ; ' 

"From off that hook its founder shook — ^Enguerrand de Marigni'^ — 
But gibbet chain did ne'er sustain such burthen as Coligni." 

1 Jean Poltrot de Mdre, the assassin of Francois de Guise, father of the 
Balafr^ probably in order to screen himself, aceuseii' Coligni and Beza of 
being the instigators of his offence. Poltrot's flesh was afterwards torn from 
his bones by red-hot pincers, but Hem'i of Lorraine never considered his 
father's death fully avenged until the massacre of the Admiral. Coligni's 
head was sent by Catherine de Medicis to Rome as an offering to Gregory 
XIII. Upon this occasion the Pope had a medal struck off, stamped 
with an exterminating angel, and subscribed — " Ugonotorum Strages." 

2 Pereat sua arte PerUlus. Enguerrand de Marigni, grand chamberlain 
of France during the reign of Philippe-le-Bel, constructed the famous 
gibbet of Montfaucon, a«.d was himself among the first to glut its horrible 
fourches patibulaires, whence originated the ancient adage — " Plus mal- 
heureux que le bois dont on fait le gibet." 



CHARLES IX. AT MONTFAUCON". 23 

VI. 

"Back! back! my liege," exclamied a page, "with death the 

air is tainted. 
The sun grows hot, and see you not, good sire, the queen has 

fainted?" 
" Let those retire," quoth Charles, in ire, " who think they stand 

too nigh ; 
To us no scent yields such content as a dead enemy."* 

VII. 

ris thus he spake, the king did quake — ^he heard a dismal moan — 
A. wounded wretch had crept to stretch his bones beneath that 

stone : — 
" Of dying man," groaned he, " the ban, the Lord's anointed 

dread. 
My curse shall cling to thee, king ! — much righteous blood 

thou'st shed." 



1 Enstiite Coligni fat traine aixs fourches patibulaires de Montf'aucon. 
Le Eoi vint jouir de ce spectacle, et s'en montra insatiable. On. ne con- 
(Xvait pas qu'il put resister a line telle odeur ; on le pressait de se retirer. 
Non, dit-il, le cadavre d'un erniemi sent toujours bon! — Laceatelle. 



24 CHARLES IX. AT MONTFAUCON. 

VIII. 

" Now by Christ's blood ! by holy Rood ! " cried Charles, 

impatiently ; 
" With sword and pike — strike, liegemen, strike ! — God's death ! 

this man shaU die. 
Straight halbert clash' d, and matchlock flash'd — ^but ere a shot 

was fired. 
With laugh of scorn that wight forlorn had suddenly expired. 

IX. 

From the Louvre gate, with heart elate. King Charles that morn 

did ride ; 
With aspect dern did he return; quench' d was his glance of pride : 
Remorse and ruth, with serpent tooth, thenceforth seized on his 

breast — 
Witli bloody tide his couch was dyed — ^pale visions broke his rest !' 

1 La maladie de Charles IX. etait accompagnee de symptomes plus 
violens qu'on n'en remarque dans les maladies de langueur; sa poitrine 
etait particuliferement afi'ectee; mais son sang coulait par tous les pores; 
d'affreux souvenirs persecutaient sa pensee dans un lit toujoura.blgj^^^Bxfde 
sang ; il voulait et ne pouvait pas s'arracher dc cette place. — LACEATii:j:.LE, 
" llistoire de France pendant les Guerres de Eeligion," 



Y L A ^ D E. 1 



I. 

A GOLDEN flower embroidering, 
A lay of love low munnuring ; 
Secluded in the eastern tower 
Sits fair Yolande within her bower : 

Fair — fair Yolande ! 
Suddenly a voice austere. 
With sharp reproof breaks on her ear — 
Her mother 'tis who silently 
Has stolen upon her privacy — 

Ah ! fair Yolande ! 

1 A very free adaptation of a sparkling little romance by Audefroy le 
Batarcl, to be found ia tbe Eomancero Francois, entitled Bele Yolans. 
Much liberty has been taken with, the concluding stanza — indeed, the 
song altogether bears but slight resemblance to its original. 



26 YOLANDE. 

" Mother ! why that angry look P 
Mother ! why that sharp rebuke ? 
Is it that I while away 
My solitude with amorous lay ? 
Or is it that my thread of gold 
Idly I weave, that thus you scold 
Your own Yolande — ^Your own Yolande !' 



" It is not that you while away 
Your solitude with amorous lay, 
It is not that your tliread of gold 
Idly you weave, that thus I scold 

My fair Yolande ! 
Your want of caution 'tis I chide : — 
The Baron fancies that you hide 
Beneath the cushion on your knee 
A letter from the Count Mahi : — 

Ah ! fair Yolande ! 
Busy tongues have fiU'd his brain 
With jealousy and frantic pain; 
Hither hastes he with his train ! 



YOLANDE. 37 

And ifd. letter tliere should be 
Conceal' d 'neatli your embroidery. 
Say no more. But give it me, 

jMy own Yolande — My own Yolande !" 



28 



ESCLAIRMONDE. 



{Henri Trois sings at a Court Bevel.'] 
I. 
The crown is proud 
That decks our brow ; 



The laugh is loud — 



That glads us now. 
The sounds that fall 

Around — above 
Are laden all 

With love — ^with love — 

With love — with love. 



II. 
Heaven cannot show, 

'Mid all its sheen. 
Orbs of such glow. 

As here are seen. 



ESCLAIKMONDE. . 29 

And monarch ne'er 

Exulting own'd. 
Queen might compare 

Witn Esclairmonde — 

With Esclairmonde. 

III. 

From Bacchus' fount 

Deep draughts we drain; 
Their spirits mount, 

And fire our brain ; 
But in our heart 

Of hearts enthroned. 
From all apart 

Rests Esclairmonde — 

Bests Esclairmonde. 

\Chicot replies.'] 
IV. 

Tlie crown is proud — 
But brings it peace ? 



30 ESCLAIRMONDE. 

The laugh is loud- — 

Pull soon 'twill ceas€. 
The sounds that fall 
From lightest breath, 
. Are laden all 

With death — with death. 

With death — ^with death. 



31 



YUSEF AND ZORAYDA.^ 



I. 

Through the Vega of Granada, where the silver Darro glides—- 
From his tower within the Alpuxar — swift — swift Prince Yusef 

rides. 
To her who holds his heart in thrall — a captive Christian maid- 
On wings of fear and doubt he flies, of sore mischance afraid. 
For ah ! full well doth Yusef know with what relentless ire. 
His love for one of adverse faith is noted by his sire : 
" Zorayda mine!" he cries aloud — on — on — ^his courser strains—* 
" Zorayda mine ! — thiue Yusef comes !'* — ^the Alhambra walls he 

gains. 

1 The incidents of this ballad are, witli some slight variation, derived 
from those of the exquisite French romance, "More et Blancheflor," the 
date of which may be referred to the Thirteenth Century, and which 

j; unquestionably, as its recent editor, M. Paulin Paris, supposes, is of 

I Spanish or Moorish origin. 



32 YUSEF AND ZORAYDA. 

II. 

Through the marble court of Lions — through the stately 

Tocador — 
To Lindaraxa's bowers he goes — the Queen he stands before ; 
Her maidens round his mother group — but not a word she 

speaks. 
In vain amid that lovely throng, one lovelier form he seeks ; 
In vain he tries 'mid orient eyes; orbs darker far to meet; 
No form so light, no eyes so bright, as hers his vision greet. 
'** Zorayda mine — Zorayda mine ! ah whither art thou fled ?" 
A low, low wail returns his cry—a wail as for the dead. 

Ill* 
No answer made his mother, but her hand gave to her son — 
To the garden of the Generalif together are they gone ; 
Where gushing fountains cool the air— -where scents the citron 

pale. 
Where nightingales in concert fond rehearse their love-lorn tale. 
Where roses link'd with myrtles make green woof against the 

sky. 
Half hidden by their verdant screen a sepulchre doth lie ; 



YUSEP AND ZOUAYDA. 33 

" Zorayda mine — Zorayda mine ! — all ! wherefore art tliou 

flown, 
To gattier flowers in Yemen's bowers while I am left alone !" 

IV. 

Upon the ground kneels Yusef — his heart is like to break ; 
In vain the Queen would comfort him — ^no comfort will he take, 
His blinded gaze he turns upon that sculptured marble fair. 
Embossed with gems, and glistening with coloured pebbles rare; 
Red stones of Ind — ^black, vermeil, green, their mingled hues 

combine, 
With jacinth, sapphire, amethyst, and diamond of the mine. 
I " Zorayda mine — Zorayda mine !" — thus ran sad Yusef's cry, 
i " Zorayda mine, within this tomb, ah ! sweet one ! dost thou 
lie?" 

V. 

Upon that costly sepulchre, two radiant forms are seen ; 
In sparkling alabaster carved like crystal in its sheen ; 
The one as Yusef fashioned, a golden crescent bears, 
i The other, as Zorayda wrought, a silver crosslet wears, 

D 



34 YUSEF AND ZORAYDA. 

And ever, as soft zephyr sighs, the pair his breath obey, 
And meet within each other's arms like infants in their play.^ 
" Zorayda fair — Zorayda fair" — thus golden letters teU 
A Christian maid lies buried here — by Moslem loved too well. 

VI. 

Three times those golden letters with grief sad Yusef reads. 
To tears and frantic agony a fearful calm succeeds — 
"Ah ! woe is me ; Zorayda mine — ah ! would the seK-same blow 
That laid thee 'neath this mocking tomb, had laid thy lover low 
Two faithful hearts, Kke ours in vain stern death may strive to 

sever — 
A moment more the pang is o'er, the grave unites us ever. 

' This circumstance is thus depicted in the French romance: — 
En la tombe et quartre tuiaus 
Aus quartre cors bien fait et biaus. 
Es quiex li quartre vent f^roient 
Chascuns, aiasi com'H ventoient. 
Quant li vens los enfans tochoit, 
L'un beisoit I'autre et accoloit j 
Si disoient, par nigromance 
De tout lor bon, de lor enfance. 

FlOBE ex BLANCnEFLOE. 



YUSEF AND ZOEAYDA. 35 

Zorayda mine — Zorayda mine — this dagger sets me free — 
Zorayda mine— look down — ^look down — tlius — ^thns I come to 
thee!" 

"Hold? Ynsef, hold!" a voice exclaims, "thy loved Zorayda 

lives — 
Thy constancy is well approved — ^thy sire his son forgives ; 
Thiae ardent passion doubting long — thy truth I thus have tried. 
Behold her whom thy faith hath won — receive her as thy bride 1" 
In Yusef's arms — ^to Yusef s heart, Zorayda close is press'd, 
HaK stiied by a flood of joy, these words escape his breast :— 
" Zorayda mine — Zorayda mine ! — ah ! doubly dear thou art ; 
Uninterrupted bliss be ours, whom death has failed to part !" 



D 2 



36 



THE LEGEND OF VALDEZ.' 



I. 

'Tis night !— fortli Taldez, in disguise. 

Hies; 
And his visage, as he glides, 

Hides, 
Goes he to yon church to pray ? 

Eh! 
No ! that fane a secret path 

Hath, 
Leading to a neighbouring pile's 

Aisles ! 

1 Founded on a story in the " Hexameron" of Antonio de Torquemada, 
referred to in tlie amusing extravagancies of Monsieur Oufle. Subse- 
quently to the pubhcation of this lyric, the legend in question has been 
delightfully narrated by Washington Irving, in his "Spectral llesearche-; 
m the Convent of San Francisco, at Seville, 1855." 



THE LEGEND OF VALDEZ. 37 

Wliere nuns lurk — by priests cajoled 

Old. 
Thither doth Don Yaldez go — 

Oh! 
Thither vestals lips to taste 

Haste. 



II. 
'Neath yon arch, why doth he stand ? 

And 
Haps it that he lingers now 

HOAV? 

Suddenly cowl'd priests appear 

Here. 
Voices chant a dirge-like dim 

Hynu?.: 
Mutes a sable coffin drear 

Rear; 
Where a monument doth lie 



High. 



38 THE LEGEND OF VALDEZ. 

'Scutclieons proud Death's dark parade 

Aid. 
Valdez sees, with fresh alarms. 

Arms, 
Which his own — (gules cross and star !) 
Are. 



in. 
An hour — ^and yet he hath not gone 

On! 
Neither can he strength to speak 

Eke. 

" Hark ! " he cries, in fear and doubt. 
Out, 

** Whom inter ye in that tomb ? 

Whom ?— » 
" Valdez ! — ^He'll be, ere twelve hours, 

Ours !— 
Wait we for nis funeral 

All!" 



THE LEGEND OF VALDEZ. 39 

IV. 

"Monk ! thou bring' st, if this be truth, 

Ruth !" 
Valdez his own fate with dread 

Read. 
Question none he uttered more ; — 

O'er 
*Twas ; and he doth peacefully 

Lie 
In the tomb he saw, thus crazed, 

Raised. 

Memento Mori. Life's a stale 
Tale. 



40 



DITTY OF DU GXJESCLIK* 



I. 

A siLVEU sMeld squire did wield, charged with an eagle black. 
With talon red, and two-fold head, who followed on the track 
Of the best knight that e'er in fight hurled mace, or couched the 

lance, 
Du Guesclin named, who truncheon claimed as Constable of 

Trance. 



1 A free version of an " olde gentil" Breton lay of the age of Charles V. 
of France : a stanza is subjoined, that the reader may have a taste of it. 
The ballad, it may be observed, has remained wholly inedited, until the 
publication, by M. Crapelet, of the golden manuscript of the Combat 
des Trente, extracted from the Bibliotheque du Eoi. 

LE DISTIC DE MONS. BEETRAN DE GLASGUIN. 

Lescu dargent a . I . egle de sable 
A . ii. testes at . I . roge baston 
Pourtoist li preux le valiant conncstable 
Qiii de Glasguin Bertran auoist a nom 



DITTY OF DU GUESCLIN. 41 

n. 

In Brittany, where Rennes * doth lie, Du Guesclin first drew 

breath ; 
Born for emprise — ^in counsel wise, brave, loyal unto death. 
With hand and sword, with heart and word, served well tliis 

baron bold 
The azure scutcheon that displayed three fleur-de-lis of gold.^ 

III. 

Like Guesclin bold of warriors old in prowess there was 

none, 
'IMid peers that stood 'round Arth^ good, Baldwin or brave 

Bouillon : 

Nor, as I ween, hath knighthood seen a chief more puissantly 
With staff advance the flower of Prance 'gainst hostile chivahy. 



A bron fu nes le chevalier Breton 
Preux at hardi courageux come . I . tor 
Qui taut serui de louial cuer et de bon 
Lesou dazm* a . iii . flours de lis dor. 

1 The Chateau de la Motte-Broon, near Eennes. 

2 The royal arms of France. 



4:'2 DITTY OF DU GUESCLIN. 

IV. 

Guesclin is dead ! and with him fled the bravest and the best, 

That ever yet, bj foe beset, maintained fair Gallia's crest ! 

His soul God shrive! — were he alive, his spear were couch-^d 

again 
To guard the three gold lilies from the white cross of Lorrain ! " *■ 

1 The cognizance of the house of Guise. The double Cross of Lorrain 
was adopted as an ensign by the Leaguers, of whom the Duke of Gruise 
was the prime mover : a circumstance which gave rise to the following 
sarcastic and somewhat irreverent quatrain, quite ia the spirit of the 
times :— 

Mais, dites moi, que sigmfie 

Que les Ligueurs ont double croix ? — 

C'est qu'erjJa Ligue on crucifie 

Jesus Christ encore une fois. 




THE- SWORD OF BAYARD. 



43 



THE SWORD OF BAYAED. 



I. 

" A BOON I crave, my Bayard brave :" — ^'twas tlius King Prancis 

spoke ; 
"The field is won, the battle done,^ yet deal one other 

stroke. 
For by this light, to dub lis knight, none worthy is as 

thou. 
Whom nor reproach nor fear approach, of prince or peer we 

trow." 



1 The famous engagement vdth the Swiss, near Milan, in which Francis 
the First came off victorious. Fleuranges places the ceremony of the 
king's knighthood before the battle. The "Loyal Servant," however, 
states that it occurred, as is most probable, after the conflict. 



44 THE SWORl; OF BAYARD. 



I 



11. 

"Sire!" said the knigM, "you judge not right, who owns 

kingdom fair, 
'Neath liis command all knights do stand — no service can he share." 
" Nay ! by our fay!" the king did say, "lo ! at thy feet we kneel. 
Let silken rules sway tiltyard schools, our laws are here of steel." 



III. 
With gracious mien did Bayard then his sword draw from his 

side; 
« By God I St. Michael I and St. George 1 I dub thee knight !" 

he cried. 
" Arise, good king I weal may this bring — such grace on thee 

confer. 
As erst from blow of Charles did flow, Roland or Oliver I" 

rv. 

With belted blade, the king arrayed — the knight the spur applied. 
And then his neck with chain did deck — and accolade supplied — 
" Do thy devoir at ghostly choir — maintain high courtesie. 
And from the fray in war's array, God grant thou never flee !" 



THE SWOED OF BAYAED. 



45 



V. 

" Certes, good blade," * then Bayard said, Ms own sword waving 

high, 
" Thou shalt, perdie, as relic be preserved fall carefully ! 
Right fortunate art thou, good sword, a king so brave to knight ! 
And with strong love, aU. arms above, rest honoured in my sight. 

VI. 

And never more, as heretofore, by Christian chivalry. 
My trenchant blade shalt thou be rayed, or e'er endangered be ! 
For Paynim foes reserve thy blows— the Saracen and Moor 
Thine edge shall smite in bitter fight, or merciless estour ! '* * 

VII. 

Years, since that day, have rolled away, and Bayard hurt to 

death, 
'Neath grey Rebecco's walls outstretched, exhales his latest 

breath. 

J " Tu es bien heureuse d' avoir aujourd'hui, a un si beau et si puissant 
roi, donnd I'ordre de chevalerie. Certes, ma bonne epee, vous serez conrnie 
reliques gardee, et sur tout autre honore !" — Frecis de la Chevalerie. 
Estour — a grand melee. 



4() THE SWORD OF BAYARD. 

On Heaven lie cried, or ere he died — bnt cross had none. I wist. 
Save that good sword-hilt cruciform, which with pale Hps he 



vin. 

Knight I whom reproach could ne'er approach, no name like unto 

thine. 
With honour bright, unsullied, white, on Fame's proud scroll 

shall shine ! 
But were it not to mortal lot denied by grace divine. 
Should Bayard's breath, and Bayard's death, and his good sword 

be mine. 



1 " This sword has been lost. Charles Emanuel, Bute of Savoy, re- 
quested it of Bayard's heirs. One of them, Charles du Motet, Lord of 
ChicHliane, sent him, in default of it, the battle-axe of which Bayard 
made use. The Duke told the Dauphinese gentleman, when he wrote to 
thank him for the present, *That in the midst of the pleasure he felt at 
beholding this weapon placed in the worthiest part of his gallery, he could 
scarce choose but regret that it was not in such good hands as of its 
original owner.' " — Champieb. See also the account of Bayard's death 
in the " Chronicle of the Loyal Servant." 



47 



THE SCOTTISH CAVALIER 



I. 

Feom Scotia's clime to laughing I'rance 

The peerless Crichtjon came ; 
Like him no knight could shiver lance, 

Wield swordj or worship dame. 
Alas ! each maiden sighs in vain, 

He turns a careless ear : 
Tor queenly fetters fast enchain 

The Scottish cavalier ! 

II. 

But not o'er camp and court, alone, 

E^sistless Crichton rules ; 
Logicians next, defeated, own 

His empire o'er the Schools. 



4:8 THE SCOTTISH CAA^ALIEU. 

'Gainst sophists shrewd shall wit prevail, 
Though tome on tome they rear ; 

And pedants pale, as victor, hail 
The Scottish cavalier ! 



49 



THE BLOOD-RED KNIGHT. 



Slowly unto the listed field T rode, 
Rouge was my charger's wide caparison; 

And the same hue that on his housing glowed. 
Dyed, as with blood, my lance and morion. 



II. ^ 

Rouge was my couvrechief, that swept the sward. 
Rouge the taU plume that nodded on my crest; 

And the rich scarf — my loyalty's reward — 
Blushed, like a timorous virgin, on my breast. 

E 



50 THE BLOOD-RED KNIGHT. 

ni. 

My broad ensanguined shield bore tHs device, 
In golden letters writ, that all might see 

How for bold deeds will lightest worth suffice ; 
And thus it ran : " Les plus rouges y sont pris. 



51 



HYMN OF THE CONSPIRATOES IN THE 
GUNPOWDER PLOT. 



The heretic and heathen. Lord, 
Consume with fire, cut down with sword , 
The spoilers from thy temples thrust, 
Their altars trample in the dust. 



Palse princes and false priests lay low, 
Their habitations fill with woe. 
Scatter them. Lord, with sword and flame, 
>nd bring them utterly to shame. 
E 2 



52 HYMN OF THE CONSPIRATORS. 

III. 

Thy vengeful arm no longer stay. 
Arise ! Lord, arise ! and slay. 
So shall thy fallen worship be 
Kestored to its prosperity ! 



53 



DIRGE OF BOUEBON. 



When the good Count of Nassau 

Saw Bourbon lie dead, 
«By Saint Barbe and St. Nicholas ! 

Forward!" he said. 



n. 

" Mutter never prayer o'er him, 
For litter ne'er halt ; 

But sound loud the trumpet- 
Sound, sound to assault ! 



54 DIRGE OF BOURBON. 



III. 



" Bring engine — ^bring ladder, 
Yon old walls to scale ; 

AH Rome, by Saint Peter ! 
Eor Bourbon shall wail." 



05 



ANACREONTIC ODE.^ 



I. 

When Bacchus' gift assails my brain. 
Care flies, and all her gloomy train; 
My pulses throb, my youth returns, 
With its old fire my bosom bums ; 
Before my kindling vision rise 
A thousand glorious phantasies ! 
Sudden my empty coffers swell 
With riches inconsumable ; 
And mightier treasures 'round me spring 
Than Croesus owned, or Phrygians king. 

' Paraphrased from Ronsard's Ode — "Lorscjue Bacchus entre chez 
Jioi," &c. 



5G ANACREONTIC ODE. 

II. 

Nought seek I in that frenzied hour. 
Save love's intoxicating power ; 
An arm to guide me in the dance. 
An eye to thrill me with its glance, 
A lip impassioned words to breathe, 
A hand my temples to en wreathe ; 
Rank, honour, wealth, and worldly weal. 
Scornful, I crush beneath my heel. 

III. 

Then fill the chalice tiU it shine 

Bright as a gem incarnadine ! 

Fill ! till its fumes have freed me wholly 

From the black phantom — Melancholy ! 

Better inebriate 'tis to lie. 

And dying live, than living die I 



57 



MARGUERITE DE YALOia* 



I. 

Marguerite, with early wiles — ■ 

Marguerite 
On light Charins and D'Antragues smiles—* 

Margot, Marguerite. 
Older grown, she favoui-s then. 
Smooth Martignes,^ and blnff Turenne. 

The latter but a foolish pas, 

Margot, Marguerite en has* 

^ A catalogue of Marguerite's various amourettes will be found in the 
"Divorce Satirique," pubHshed under tbe auspices of her consort, 
Henri IV. More than half, however, axe, most probably, scandal. 

2 Marguerite was then of the tender age of eleven. 

3 Colonel- Greneral of the French infantry. Brantome has written hia 
eloge. 

* This refrain is attributed to the Duchess de Guise. 



58 MARGUEEITE DE VALOIS. 

But no more these galliards please. 

Marguerite. 
Softly sues the gallant Guise, 

Margot, Marguerite. 
Gmse succeeds, like God of war, 
Yaliant Henri of Navarre ; 

Better stop, than further go, 

Margot, Marguerite en haul. 

n. 

Loudly next bewails La Mole,* 

Marguerite, 
On the block his head must rollj 

Margot, Marguerite. 
Soon consoles herself again. 
With Brantome, Bussi,^ and Mayeune,' 

Boon companion gros et gras, 

Margot, Marguerite en bas. 

1 The Sieur La Mole, surnamed " Le Baladin de la Cour," beheaded by 
Charles IX., it is said, from jealousy, — Mollis vita, MoUior interitus. 

2 Bussi D'Amboise. — Formosae Veneris furiosi Martis alumnus. 

3 The Due de Mayenne, brother to the Due de Guise. 



MARGUERITE DE VALOIS. 59 

Who shall next your shrine adore. 

Marguerite ? 
You have but one lover more, 

Margot, Marguerite ! 
Crichton comes — ^the preux. the wise. 
You may well your conquest prize; 

Beyond him you cannot go, 

Maigot, Mai'guerite en liaut. 



60 



THE ADMIRABLE CRICHTON. 



A SONG ril write on 
Matchless Crichton; 
In wit a bright one. 
Form, a slight one. 
Love, a light one ! 
Who talketh Greek with us 
Like great Busbeqnins ; 
Knoweth the Cabala 
Well as Mirandola; 
Eate can reveal to us. 
Like wise Cornelius ; 
Reasbneth like Socrates, 
Or old Zenocrates ; 



THE ADMIRABLE CRICHTON. 61 

Whose system ethical, 
Sound, dialecticaJ, 
Aristotelian, 
Pantagmelian, 
Like to chameleon, 
Choppeth and changeth. 
Everywhere rangetn ! 
Who rides like Centaur, 
Preaches like Mentor, 
Drinks like Lyseus, 
Sings like Tyrtseus, 
Reads like Budseus, 
Vaulteth like Tuccaro, 
Painteth like Zucchero, 
Diceth like Spaniard, 
Danceth like galliard. 
Tilts like Orlando, 
Does all man can do ! 
" Qui pupas nobiles 
Innumerabiles, 
Amat amabiles; 



62 THE ADMIRABLE CRICHTON. 

Atque Reginam 
Navarrse divinam ! " 
"Whose rare prosperity, 
Grace and dexterity. 
Courage, temerity. 
Shall, for a verity, 
Puzzle posterity. 



63 



THE THEEE ORGIES. 



In banquet hall, beside tbe king, 
Sat proud Thyestes revelling. 
The festal board was covered fair. 
The festal meats were rich and rare ; 
Thyestes ate full daintily, 
Thyestes laughed full lustily ; 
But soon his haughty visage fell — 
A dish was brought — and, wo to tell ! 
A gory head that charger bore ! 
An infant's look the features wore ! 
Thyestes shrieked — King Atreus smiled — 
The father had devoured his child ! 



€4: THE THREE ORGIES. 

Fill the goblet— fill it high— 

To Thyestes' revelry. 

Of blood-red wines the brightest choose, 

The glorious grape of Syracuse ! 



n. 

For a victory obtained 

O'er the savage Getae chained, 

In his grand Csesarean hall 

Domitian holds high festival. 

To a solemn feast besought 

Thither are the senate brought. 

As he joins the stately crowd, 

Snules each pleased patrician proud. 

One by one each guest is led 

Where Domitian's feast is spread; 

Each recoiling stares aghast 

At the ominous repast ; 

Round marble slab of blackest shade 

Black triclinia are laid, 



THE THREE ORGIES. G5 

Sable vases deck the board 
With dark-colouied viands stored j 
Shapea like tombs, on eitber hand. 
Rows of dusky pillars stand; 
O'er each pillar ia a line. 
Pale sepulchral lychni shine j 
Cinerary urns are seen, 
Graved each with a name, I ween, 
By the sickly radiance shown 
Every guest may read his own ! 
Forth then issue swarthy slaves, 
Each a torch and dagger waves j 
Some like Manes habited, 
i'igures ghastly as the dead ! 
Some as Lemures attired, 
LarvsB some, with vengeance fired. 
See, the throat of every guest 
By a murderous gripe is prest ! 
While the vTxetch, with horror dumb. 
Thinks his latest hour is come ! 



66 THE THREE ORGIES. 

Loud then laugli'd Domitian, 
Thus his solemn feast began. 
Eill the goblet— fill it high- 
To Domitian's revelry. 
• Let our glowing goblet be 
Crown' d with wine of Sicily. 



III. 

Borgia* holds a papal fete. 
And Zizime, with heart elate. 
With his chiefs barbarian 
iSeeks the gorgeous Yatican. 
'Tis a wondrous sight to see 
In Christian hall that company ! 



1 Pope Alexander VI., of the family of Len^uoli, who assumed, pre- 
vious to his pontificate, the name of Borgia, (a name rendered infamous, 
as well by bis own crimes and vices, as by those of the monster ofFsprir .g, 
Caesar antl Lucrezia, whom he had by the courtezan Vanozza,) according to 
Gordon, was incited to the murder of Zizime or Djem, son of Mahomet II., 
by the offer of 300,000 ducats, from Bajazet, brother to the ill-fated 
Othmau Prince. 



THE THREE ORGIES. 67 

But the Othman warriors soon 

Scout tlie precepts of Mahoun. 

Wines of Sicily and Spain, 

Joyously those paynims drain ; 

While Borgia's words their laughter stir, 

"BibimusPapaliter!" 

At a signal, pages three, 

With gold goblets, bend the knee ; 

Borgia pours the purple stream 

Till beads upon its surface gleam. 

*'Do us a reason, noble guest," 

Thus Zizime, the pontiff pressed ? 

"By our triple-crown there lies 

In that wine-cup Paradise !" 

High Zizime the goblet raised — 

Loud Zizime the Cyprus praised — 

To each guest in order slow. 

Next the felon pages go. 

Each in turn the Cyprus quaffs, 

Like Zizime each wildly laughs, — 



68 THE THREE ORGIES. 

Laughter horrible and strange ! 

Quick ensues a fearful change. 

Stifled soon is every cry, 

Azrael is standing by. 

Glared Zizitne — ^but spake no more ; 

Borgia's fatal feast was o'er ! 

KU the goblet— fiU it high— 

With the wines of Italy ; 

Borgia's words our laughter stii-— 

Bibimus PapaUter I 



C9 



ALL-SMCE, OE A SPICE OF ALL. 



The people endure all, 
The men-at-arms cure all, 
The favourites sway all, 
Their reverences flay all, 
The citizens pay all, 
Our good king affirms all, 
The senate confirms all. 
The. chancellor seals all, 
Queen Catherine conceals all. 
Queen Louise instructs all. 
Queen Margot conducts all. 
The Leaguers contrive all. 
The Jacobins shrive all. 
The Lutherans doubt all. 
The Zuinglians scout all. 



70 ALL-SPICE, OR A SPICE OF ALL. 

The Jesuits flout all. 
The Sorbonists rout all, 
Brother Henri believes all, 
Pierre de Gondy receives all,' 
Ruggieri defiles all, 
Mad Siblot reviles all. 
The bilboquets please all. 
The sarbacanes tease all. 
The Due de Guise tries all, 
Rare Crichtoii outvies aU, 
Abbe Brantome retails all, 
Bussy d'Amboise assails all. 
Old E-onsard recants all. 
Young Jodelle enchants all, 
Tat VUlequier crams all, 
His Holiness damns all, 
Esclairmonde bright outsliines all. 
And wisely declines all. 
La Rebours will bless all. 
La Eosseuse confess all, 

1 Bishop of Paris. 



ALL-SPICE, OR A SPICE OF ALL. 71 

La Guyol will % all, 
Torigni deay all, 
John Calvin misguide aU, 
Wise Chicot deride all, 
Spanish Philip^ may craye aU, 
The Bearnais^ brave all. 
The Devil will have all! 

1 Philip II. 

2 Hertri of If avarre, afterwards Henri IV. 



72 



DEATH TO THE HUGUENOT. 



Death to tlie Huguenot ! fagot and flame , 
Death to the Huguenot ! torture and shame ! 

Death! Death! 

Heretics* lips sue for mercy in vain, 

Drown their loud cries in the waters of Seine ! 

Brown ! Drown ! 

Hew down, consume them with fire and with sword ! 
A good work ye do in the sight of the Lord ! 

KiU! KiH! 

Hurl down their temples ! their ministers slay ! 
Let them bleed as they bled on Barthelemy's day ! 

Slay! Slay! 



73 



LA GITANILLA.» 



I. 

By the Guadalquivir, 

Ere the suu be flown, 
By that glorious river 

Sits a maid alone. 
Like the sunset splendour 
Of that current bright. 
Shone her dark eyes tender 

As its witching light ; 
Ijike the ripple flowing, 

Tinged with purple sheen. 
Darkly, richly glowing, 
Is her warm cheek seen. 
'Tis the Gitanilla 

By the stream doth linger, 
Li the hope that eve 
Will her lover bring her. 

Set to music by Mr. F. Eomer and Lady Stracey. 



74 



LA GITANILLA. 



II. 



See, the sun is sinking ; 
All grows dim, and dies ; 



See, the waves are drinking 



Glories of the sides. 
Day's last lustre playeth 
On that current dark ; 
Yet no speck betrayeth 

His long looked-for bark. 

'Tis the hour of meeting ! 

Nay, the hour is past ; 

Swift the time is fleeting ! 

Fleeteth hope as fast ? 

Still the Gitanilla 

By the stream doth linger. 
In the hope that night 
Will her lover brin^- her. 



LA GITANILLA. 75 



III. 



Swift that stream flows on. 

Swift the night is wearing,— 
Yet she is not gone. 

Though with heart despairing. 
Dips an oar-plash — hark ! — 

Gently on the river ; 
*Tis her lover's bark. 

On the Guadalquivir. 
Hark ! a song she hears ! 

Every note she snatches. 
As the singer nears, 

Her own name she catches. 
Now the Gitanilla 

Stays not by the water, 
Tor the midnight hour 
Hath her lover brought her. 



76 



THE TWICE-USED RING.^ 



" Bewaue thy bridal day ! " 

On her deathbed siglied my mother; 
" Beware, beware, I say. 

Death shall wed thee, and no other. 
Cold the hand shall grasp thee. 
Cold the arms shall clasp thee. 
Colder lips thy kiss shall smother ! 
Beware thy bridal kiss ! 

" Thy wedding-ring shall be 
Trom a clay-cold finger taken 

From one that, like to thee. 
Was by her love forsaken. 

1 Set to music by Mr, F. Eomer. 



THE TWICE-USED RING. 77 

For a twice-used ring 

Is a fatal thmg ; 

Her griefs "who wore it are partaken— 
Beware tliat fatal ring ! 

** The altar and the grave 

Many steps are not asunder ; 
Bright banners o'er thee wave, 
Shrouded horror lieth under. 
Blithe may sound the bell. 
Yet 'twill toU thy knell; 
Scathed thy chaplet by the thunder — 
Beware thy blighted wreath ! " 

Beware my bridal day ! 

Dying lips my doom have spoken; 
Deep tones call me away ; 

!From the grave is sent a token. 
Cold, cold fingers bring. 
That ill-omened ring; 
Soon wlU a second heart be broken ! 
This is my bridal day ! 



78 



THE SOUL-BELL.' 



Fast the sand of life is failing, 
East her latest sigh exhaling, 

East, fast, is she dying. 

With death's chills her limbs are shivering. 
With death's gasp her lips are quivering, 
East her soul away is flying. 

0*er the mountain-top it fleetetn, 
\nd the skiey wonders greeteth, 
Singing loud as stars it meeteth 
On its way. 

1 Set to music by Mr. F. Homer. 



I 



THE SOU]>BELL. 79 



Hark ! the sullen Soul-bell tolling. 
Hollowly in echoes rolling. 

Seems to say — 

" Slie will ope her eyes — oh, never ! 
Quenched their dark Kght — gone for ever 
She is dead." 



80 



HYMK TO SAINT THECLA.^ 



In my trouble, in my anguish. 

In the depths of my despair. 
As in grief and pain I languish, 

Unto thee I raise my prayer. 
Sainted virgin ! martyr' d maiden ! 

Let thy countenance incline 
Upon one with woes o'erladen, 

Kneeling lowly at thy shrine ; 
That in agony, in terror, 

In her blind perplexity, 
Wandering weak in doubt and. error, 

Calleth feebly upon thee. 
Sinful thoughts, sweet saint, oppress me, 

Thoughts that will not be dismissed ; 
Temptations dark possess me. 

Which my strength may not resist. 

1 bet to music by Mr. F. Homer, 



HYMN TO SAINT THECLA. 81 

I am full of pain, and weary 

Of my life ; I fain would die ; 
Unto me the world is dreary ; 
To the grave for rest I fly. 
Eor rest ! — oh ! could I borrow 

Thy bright wings, celestial Dove ! 
They should waft me from my sorrow, 
Where Peace dwells in bowers above. 
Upon one with woes o'erladen. 

Kneeling lowly at thy shrine ; 
Sairited virgin ! martyr'd maiden ! 
Let thy countenance incline ! 
Mei miserere Virgo, 
Requiem eeternam dona ! 

By thy loveliness, thy purity, 

By thy spirit undefiled. 
That ill serene security 

Upon earth's temptations smiled ; — 
By the fetters that constraia'd thee. 

By thy flame-attested faith, 

G 



82 HYMN TO SAINT THECLA. 

By the fervour that sustain'd thee, 
By thine angel-ushered death ; — 
By thy soul's divine elation, 

'Mid thine agonies assuring 
Of thy sanctified translation 
To beatitude enduring; — 
By the mystic interfusion 

Of thy spirit with the rays, 
That in ever-bright profusion 

Round the Throne Eternal blaze : — 
By thy portion now partaken. 

With the pain-perfected Just ; 
Look on one of hope forsaken, 
Trom the gates of mercy thrust. 
Upon one with woes o'erladcn, 
Kneehng lowly at thy shrine. 
Sainted virgin ! martyr'd maiden ! 
Let thy countenance incHne ! 

Ora pro me mortis hord / 
Sancta Virgo, oro te ! 
Kyrie Meison ! 



b3 



HYMK TO SAINT CYPItlAK 



Hear ! oh ! hear me, sufferer holy. 

Who didst make thine habitation 
'Mid these rocks, devoting wholly 

Life to one long expiation 
Of thy guiltiness, and solely 

By severe mortification 
Didst deliver thee. Oh ! hear me ! 

In my dying moments cheer me. 
By thy penance, self-denial. 
Aid me in the hour of trial. 

May, through thee, my prayers prevailing 

On the Majesty of Heaven, 
O'er the hosts of hell, assaUing 

My soul, in this dark hour be driven ! 
G 2 



84 HYMN TO SAINT CYPRIAN. 

So my spirit, when exhaling. 

May of sinfuhiess be shriven. 
And his gift unto the Giver 
May be rendered pure as ever ! 
By thy own dark, dread possession. 
Aid me with tiime intercession ! 



85 



THE CHURCHYARD YEW. 



— — — Metuendaque succo 

Taxus. 

A NOXIOUS tree is the churchyaxd Yew, 
As if from the dead its sap it drew ; 
Dark are its branches, and dismal to see. 
Like plumes at Death's latest solemnity. 
Spectral and jagged, and black as the wings 
Which some spirit of ill o'er a sepulchre flings ; 
Oh ! a terrible tree is the churchyard yew ; 
Like it is nothing so dreary to view. 

Yet this baleful tree hath a core so sound. 
Can nought so tough in the grove be found : 
From it were fashioned brave English bows. 
The boast of our isle, and the dread of its foes. 



86 



THE CHURCHYARD YEW. 



For oitr sturdy sires cut their stoutest staves 
rroni the branch that hung o'er their father's graves ; 
And though it be dreary and dismal to view. 
Stanch at the heart is the churchyard yew. 



67 



BLACK BESS.» 



I. 

Let the lover his mistress's beauty rehearse, 
Aud laud her attractions ia languishing verse ; 
Be it miae in rude strains, hut with truth to express, 
The love that T bear to my bonny Black Bess. 

II. 

From the West was her dam, from the East was her sire, 
From the one came her swiftness, the other her fire ; 
No peer of the realm better blood can possess 
Than flows in the veins of my bonny Black Bess, 

ni. 
Look ! look ! how that eyeball glows l^right as a brand ! 
That neck proudly arches, those nostrils expand ! 
Mark that wide-flowing mane ! of which each silky tress 
Might adorn prouder beauties — ^though none like Black Bess, 

I Set to music by Mr. ¥. E,omer. 



88 



BLACK BESS. 



rv. 
Mark that skin sleek as velvet, and dusky as niglit. 
With its jet undisfigured by one lock of white ; '^UB i 

That throat branched with veins, prompt to charge or caress 
Now is she not beautiful ? — ^bonny Black Bess ! 

T. 

Over highway and by-way, in rough and smooth weather, 
Some thousands of miles have we journeyed together ; 
Our couch the same straw, and our meal the same mess : 
No couple more constant than I and Black Bess ! 

Tl. 

By moonlight, in darkness, by night, or by day. 
Her headlong career there is nothing can stay ; 
She cares not for distance, she knows not distress : 
Can you show me a courser to match with Black Bess ? 



vn. 

Once it happened in Cheshire, near Dunham, I popped 
On a horseman alone, whom I suddenly stopped ; 
That I lightened his pockets you'll readily guess — 
Quick work makes Dick Turpin when mounted on Bess. 



BLACK BESS. 89 

VIII. 

Now it seems the man knew me ; " Dick Tiirpia," said he, 
" You shall swing for this job, as you live, d'ye see ;" 
I laughed at his threats and his vows of redress ; 
I was sure of an alibi then with Black Bess. 

JX. 

The road was a hollow, a sunken ravine,* 

Overshadowed completely by wood like a screen ; 

I clambered the bank, and I needs must confess 

That one touch of the spur grazed the side of Black Bess. 

X. 

Brake, brook, meadow, and ploughed field, Bess fleetly bestrode, 
As the crow wings her flight we selected our road ; 

1 The exact spot where Turpin committed this robbery, which has 
often been pointed out to me, lies in what is now a woody hollow, though 
once the old road from Altringham to Knutsford, skirting Dunham 
Park, and descending the hill that brings you to the bridge crossing thej 
river Bollin. "With some difficulty I penetrated this ravine. It is just 
the place for an adventure of the kind. A small brook wells through 
it ; and the steep banks are overhung with timber, and were, when I 
last visited the place, m April, 1834, a perfect nest of primroses and wild 
flowers. Hough (pronounced Hoc) Grreen hes about three miles across 
the countiy — the way Tiu'pin rode. The old Bowling-green used to be 
one of the pleasantest inns in Cheshire. 



90 BLACK BESS. 

We arrived at Hough Green in five minutes, or less- 
My neck it was saved by tke speed of Black Bess. 



Stepping carelessly forward, I lounge on tlie green. 
Taking excellent care tliat by aU I am seen ; 
Some remarks on time's flight to the squires I address. 
But I say not a word of the flight of Black Bess. 

XII. 

I mention the hour — ^it was just about four — 
Play a rubber at bowls — ^think the danger is o'er; 
When athwart my next game, like a checkmate at cliess, 
Comes the horseman in search of the rider of Bess. 

XIII. 

What matter details ? OS with triumph I came ; 
He swears to the hour, and the squires swear the same ; 
I had robbed him ^ifour! — while at four they profess 
I was quietly bowling — all thanks to Black Bess ! 



BLACK BESS. 91 

XIV. 

Then one halloo, boys, one loud cheering halloo ! 
To the swiftest of coursers, the gallant, the true ! 
For the sportsman unhorn shall the memory bless 
Of the horse of the highwayman — bonny Black Bess ! 



99. 



THE OLD OAK COFFIN. 



Sic ego componi versiis in ossa velim. — Tibttllits. 

In a churchjard, upon the sward, a coffin there was laid, 
And leaning stood, beside the wood, a sexton on his spade. 
A coffin old and black it was, and fashioned curiously. 
With quaint device of carved oak, in hideous fantasie. 

For here was wrought the sculptured thought of a tormented 

face. 
With serpents lithe that round it writhe, in folded strict embrace. 
Grim visages of grinning fiends were at each corner set. 
And emblematic scroUs, mort-heads, and bones together met. 

"Ah, weU-a-day !" that sexton grey unto himself did cry, 
" Beneath that lid much lieth hid — much awful mystery. 
It is an ancient coffin from the abbey that stood here ; 
Perchance it holds an abbot's bones, perchance those of a frere. 



THE OLD OAK COFFIN, 93i 

" In digging deep, where monks do sleep, beneath yon cloister 

shrined. 
That cofl&n old, within the mould, it was my chance to find ; 
The costly carvings of the lid I scraped full carefuUy, 
In hope to get at name or date, yet nothing could I see. 

* With pick and spade I've plied my trade for sixty years and 

more, 
Yet never found, beneath the ground, sheU strange as that before ; 
Full many coffins have I seen — ^have seen them deep or flat, 
Fantastical in fashion — ^none fantastical as that." 

And saying so, with heavy blow, the lid he shattered wide, 
And, pale with fright, a ghastly sight that sexton grey espied; 
A miserable sight it was, that loathsome corpse to see. 
The last, last, dreary, darksome stage of faU'n humanity. 

Though aU was gone, save reeky bone, a green and grisly heap. 
With scarce a trace of fleshy face, strange posture did it keep. , 
The hands were clench' d, the teeth were wrench'd, as if the 

wretch had risen, 
J&len after death had ta'en his breath, to strive and burst his prison. 



94 THE OLD OAK COFFIN. 

The neck was bent, the nails were rent, no limb or joiat was 

straight ; 
Together glued, with blood imbued, black and coagulate. 
And, as the sexton stooped him doAra. to lift the coffin plank. 
His fingers were defiled aU o'er with sHmy substance dank. 

"Ah, weU-a-day!" that sexton grey unto himself did cry, 

" Full well I see how Eate's decree foredoomed this wretch to 

die; 
A living man, a breathing man, within the coflSn thrust, 
Alack ! alack ! the agony ere he returned to dust." 

A vision drear did then appear unto that sexton's eyes ; 
Like that poor wight before him straight he ia a coffin lies. 
He lieth in a trance within that coffin close and fast ; 
Yet though he sleepeth now, he feels he shall awake at last. 

The cofBn then, by reverend men, is borne with footsteps slow. 
Where tapers shine before the shriae, where breathes the requiem 

low; 
And for the dead the prayer is said, for the soul that is not flown — 
Then all is drown'd ia hollow sound, the earth is o'er him thrown! 



THE OLD OAK COFFIN. 95 

He drawetli breath — lie wakes from death to life more horrible ; 

To agony ! such agony ! no living tongue may tell. 

Die ! die he must, that wretched one ! he struggles — strives in 

vain; 
No more heaven's light, nor sunshine bright, shall he behold again. 

" Gramercy, Lord !" the sexton roar'd, awakening suddenly, 
" If this be dream, yet doth it seem most dreadful so to diie. 
Oh, cast my body in the sea ! or hurl it on the shore ! 
But nail me not in coffin fast— no grave will I dig more." 



Jfantastial ^alla!t>s. 



THE SOKCEEERS' SABBATHJ 



I. 

A.EOUND Moiitfaucoii's mouldering stones. 

The wizard crew is flitting ; 
And 'neatli a Jew's iinliallowed bones. 

Man's enemy is sitting. 

1 Le Loyer observes, that the " Saboe-evolie," sung at the orgia, or- 
Bacchanalia, agree with the exclamations of the conjurers and witclies — 
" Her Sabat — Sabar !" and that Bacchus, who was only a devil in disguise, 
was named Sabassus, from the Sabbath of the Bacchanals. The accus- 
tomed form of their initiation was expressed in these words, — " I have 
drunk of the drum, and eaten of the cymbal; and am become a pro- 
ficient;" which Le Loyer explains in the foUow^ing manner: — By the 
cymbal is meant the caldi-on used by the modern conjurers to boil those 
infants they intend to eat ; and by the drum, the goat's skia, blown up, 
whence they extract its moisture, boil it up fit to drink, and by that means 
are admitted to participate in the ceremonies of Bacchus. It is also 
alleged the name Sabbath is given to these assemblies of conjvirers, because 
they are generally held on Saturdays. — Monsieur Ovfie. Description of 
the Sabbath. 

H 2 



100 THE S0ECEB,33S' SABBATH* 

Terrible it is to see 

Such fantastic revelryl 

Terrible it is to bear 

Sounds that shake the soul with fear? 

Like the chariot wheels of Night, 

Swiftly round about they go; 
Scarce the eye can track their flight, 

As the mazy measures flow. 
Now they form a ring of fire ; 
Now a spiral, funeral pyre : — 
Mounting now, and now descending. 
In a circle never ending. 
As the clouds the storm-blast scatters— 
As the oak the thunder shatters — 
As scared fowl in wintry weather — 
They huddle, groan, and scream together. 
Strains unearthly and forlorn 
Issue from yon wrinkled horn ; 
By the bearded Demon blown. 
Sitting on that great gray stone. 

Round with whistle and with whoop. 

Sweep the ever-whirling troop : 



THE SOECEREKS SABBATH. 101 

Streams of light their footsteps trail. 
Forked as a comet's tail. 
"Her Sabat !— Sabat ! "—they cry— 
An abbess joins their company, 

n. 

Sullenly resounds the roof, 

With the tramp of horned hoof,— 

Rings each iron-girdled rafter 

With intolerable laughter : 

Shaken by the stunning peal. 

The chain-hung corses swing and reeL 

From its perch on a dead-man's bone. 

Wild with fright, hath the raven flown; 

Fled from its feast hath the flesh-gorged rat : 

Gone from its roost is the vampire bat ; 

Stareth and screameth the screech-owl old. 

As he wheeleth his flight through the moonlit wold; 

Bays the garbage-glutted hound, 

Quakes the blind mole underground. 

Hissing glides the speckled snake ; 

LoathUest things their meal forsake. 



102 THE SOECERERS' SABBATH. 

Ef oiri tlieir holes beneath the wall, 
Newt, and toad, and adder crawl — 
In the Sabbath-dance to sprawl ! 
Round with whistle and with whoop, 
Sweep the ever-whirling troop ; 
Louder grows their frantic glee — 
Wilder yet their revelry, 
"Her Sabat !— Sabat ! "—they cry, 
A young girl joins their company. 

in. 

See that dark-hair' d girl advances-— 
In her hand a poignard glances ; 
On her bosom, white and bare, 
Rests an infant passing fair : 
Like a thing from heavenly region, 
'Mid that diabolic legion. 
Lovelier maid was never seen 
Than that rutliless one, I ween : 
Shape of symmetry hath she, 
And a step as wild-doe free. 



THE SORCEREKS' SAEBATH. 103 

Her jetty hair is all unbound, 
And its long locks sweep tlie ground. 
Hushed in. sleep her infant Lies — 
" Perish ! child of sin/' she cries, 
" To fiends thy frame I immolate — 
To ijends thy soul I dedicate ! 
Unbaptised, unwept, unkno^vn — 
In heU thy sire may claim his own," 
From her dark eyes fury flashes — 
Erom her breast her babe she dashes. 
Gleams the knife — her brow is wrinkled — 
With warm blood her hand is sprinkled ! 
Without a gasp — without a groan, 
Her slumbering infant's soul hath flown. 
At Sathan's feet the corse is laid — 
To Sathan's view the knife display'd,^ 
A roar of laughter shakes the pile — 
A mocking voice exclaims the while : — 

1 Sathan will have an ointment composed of the flesh of unbaptised 
children, that these innocents, being deprived of their lives by these wicked 
witches, their poor little souls may be deprived of the glories of Paradi^ 
— De Lancre. 



104 



"By this covenant — hj tMs sign, 
Ealse wife! false mother ! thou art mine? 
Weal or wo, whate*er betide. 
Thy doom is sealed, infanticide ! 
Shall nor sire's nor brother's wrath. 
Nor husband's vengeance cross thy path; 
And on him, thy blight, thy bane. 
Hell's consuming fire shall rei_gn ! " 
Round with whistle and with whoop. 
Sweep the ever- whirling troop ; 
In the caldron bubbling fast, 
The babe is by its mother cast ! 
"Eman hetan ! " shout the crew, . 
And their frenzied dance renew. 

r?-. 

Tlie Eiend's wild strains are heard no more- 
Dabbled in her infant's gore, ' 
The new-made witch the caldron stirs- 
Howl the demon-worshippers. 
Now begin the Sabbath ' v^— 



105 

Sathan marks his proselytes ;^ 

^nd each wriiikled hag anoints 

With unguents rank her withered joints. 

Unimaginable creeds — ^ 

Unimagiriable deeds — 

Eoul, idolatrous, malicious, 

BaleM, black, and superstitious. 

Every holy form profaning. 

Every sacred symbol staining. 

Each foul sorcerer observes. 

At the feet of him he serves. 

Here a goat is canonized. 

Here a bloated toad baptised ; 
Bells around its neck are hung, 
Velvet on its back is fliing ; 
Mystic words are o'er it said. 
Poison on its brow is shed.^ 

; 1 The devil marks the sorcerers in a place which he renders iftsensible. 
I And this mark is, in some, the figure of a hare ; in others, of a toad's foot, 
j or a black cat. — DeVrio, Disquisifiones Magicce. 

2 As the sabbath toads are baptised, and dressed in red or black velvet, 
j with a beU at their neck, and another at each foot, the male sponsor holda 
j the head, the female the feet. — De Lancre. 



106 THE sorcerers' SABBATH. 

Here a cock of snowy plume. 
Mutters o'er the caldron's fume ; 
By a Hebrew Moohel slain. 
Muttering spells of power amain.' 

There within the ground is laia 

An image that a foe may fade. 
Priest unholy, chanting faintly 
Masses weird with visage saintly ; 
While respond the howling choir 
Antiphons from dark grimoire.- 
Clouds from out the caldron rise, 
Shrouding fast the star-lit skies. 

1 The sacrifice of a snow- white cock is offered by the Jews at the FeasiP | 
of the Eeconciliation. This was one of the charges brought against the 
Mar^chale D'Ancre, condemned under Louis XIII. for sorcery and 
Judaism. Another absurd accusation, to which she pleaded guilty, was 
the eating of rams' kidneys ! Those kidneys, howevei', we are bound to 
state, had been blessed as well as deviled. From Cornelius Agrippa we 
learn that the blood of a white cock is a proper suffumigation to the sun; 
and that if pulled in pieces, while living, by two men, according to the 
ancient and approved practice of the Methonenses, the disjecta membra 
of the unfortunate bird will repel all unfavourable breezes. The reader of 
Eabelais, wiU also call to mind what is said respecting le cocq blanc in 
the chapter of Gargantua, treating "■ de ce qu'est fcigniiie par les couleurs 
blanc et bleu ! " 
2 "The Black Book." 



THE SOECEEEES SABBATH, 107 

Like ribs of mammoth through the gloom, 
Hoar Montfaucon's pillars loom ; 
Wave its dead — a grisly row — 
In the night-breeze to and fro. 
At a beck from Sathan's hand, 
Drop to earth that charnel band, — 
Clattering as they touch the ground 
With a harsh and jarring sound. 
Their fluttering rags, by vulture rent, 
A ghastly spectacle present ; 
Plakes of flesh of livid hue. 
With the white bones peeping through. 
Blue phosphoric lights are seen 
In the holes where eyes have been : 
Shining through each hollow skull. 
Like the gleam of lantern dull ! 

Hark ! they shake their manacles — 

Hark ! each hag responsive yells ! 
And her freely-yielded waist 
Is by fleshless arms embraced, 
Once again begins the dance — 
How they foot it — how they prance ! 



108 THE sorcerers' SABBATH. 

Jlound the gibbet-cirque careering, 
On their grinning partners fleering, 
While, as first amid their ranks. 
The new-made witch with Sathan pranks. 

Furious grows their revelry,— 

But see ! — ^within the eastern sky, 
A bar of gold proclaims the sun- 
Hark ! the cock crows — all is done ! 
With a whistle and a whoop. 
Vanish straight the wizard troop ; 
On the bare and blasted ground. 
Homed hoofs no more resound : 
Caldron, goat, and broom are flown, 
And Montfaucon claims its own. 



109 



INCANTATION. 



Lovely spirit, who dost dwell 
In the bowers invisible, 
By undying Hermes reared, 
By Stagyric sage revered, 
Where the silver fountains wander, 
Where the golden streams meander, 
Where the dragon vigil keeps 
Over mighty treasure heaps ; 
Where the mystery is known, 
Of the wonder working Stone ; 
Where the quintessence is gained. 
And immortal life attained — 
Spirit by this spell of power, 
I call thee from thy viewless bower. 



no 



INCANTATION. 



The charm is wrought — ^the word is spoken 

And the sealed vial broken ! 

Element with element 

Is incorporate and blent ; 

Fire with water — air with earth. 

As before creation's birth ; 

Matter gross is purified, 

Matter humid rarefied ; 

Matter volatile is fixed, 

The spirit with the clay commixed. 

Laton is by azoth purged. 



And the argent-vif disgorged : 



And the black crow's head is ground, 

And the magistery found ; 

And with broad empurpled wing 

Springs to light the blood-red king. 

By this fiery assation — 

By this wondrous permutation 

Spirit, from thy burning sphere 

Float to earths-appear — appear ! 



Ill 



THE WONDROUS STONE. 



I. 

Within the golden portal 

Of the garden of the .wise. 
Watching by the seven-spray' d fountain, 

The Hesperian Dragon lies.^ 

1 Tliese lines are little moi'e than a versification of some of the 
celebrated President D'Espagnet's hermetic canons, with which the 
English adept must be familiar in the translation of Elias Ashmole. 
D'Espagnet's Arcanum Philosophiae Hermeticse has attained a classical 
celebrity among his disciples, at one period sufficiently numerous. 
The subjoined interpretation of this philosophical allegory may save the 
uninitiated reader some speculation. "La Fontaine que Pon trouve a 
I'entree du Jardin est le Mercure des Sages, qui sort des sept sources, 
parce qu'il est le principe des sept metaux, et qu'il est forme par les sept 
planetes, quoique le soleil seul soit appele son pere et la lune seule sa 
mere. Le Dragon qu'on y fait boire est la putrefaction qui survient a la 
matiere qui'ls ont appelee Dragon, a cause de sa couleur noire, et de sa 
puanteur. Ce Dragon quitte ses vetemens, lorsque la couleur grise 
succede a la noire. Vous ne reussirez point si Venus et Diane ne vous 
sont favorables, c'est-a-dire, si par le regime de feu, vous ne parvenez a 



112 THE WONDROUS STONE. 

Like the ever-burning branches 

In the dream of holy seer ; 
Like the types of Asia's churches 

Those glorious jets appear 
Three times the magic waters 

Must the Winged Dragon drain ; 
Then his scales shall burst asunder. 

And his heart be reft in twain. 
Forth shall flow an emanation, 

Forth shall spring a shape divine, 
And if Sol and Cynthia aid thee. 

Shall the charmed Key be thine, 

II. 

In the solemn groves of Wisdom, 
Where black pines their shadows fling 

blanchir la matiere qu'il appelle dans cet etat de blancheur le regne de la 
lune." — Diciionnaire Mi/tJio-Hermetique. The mysterious mfluence of 
the number Seven, and its relations with the planets, is too well known to 
need explanation here. Jacques Bohom has noticed it in the enigma con- 
tained in his Aquarium Sapientium, beginning — 

Septem sunt urbes, septem pro more metalla, 
Suntque dies septem, septimus est numerus. 

K, T. X. 



THE WONDROUS STONE. 113 

Near the haiinted cell of Hermes, 

Three lovely flow'rets spring : 
The violet damask-tinted. 

In scent all flowers above ; 
The milk-white vestal lily, 

And the purple flower of love. 
Bed Sol a sign shaU give thee 

Where the sapphire violets gleam, 
Watered by the rills that wander 

Erom the viewless golden stream, 
One violet shalt thou gather — 

But ah ! — ^beware, beware ! — 
The lily and the amaranth 

Demand thy chiefest care.* 

1 Vous ne s^paxerez point ces fletirs de leur raeines — e'est-S.-dire, qu'il 
ne faut rien 6ter du vase. Par ce moyen on aura d'abord des violettes de 
couleur de saphir fonce, ensuite de lys, et enfin ramaranthe, ou la covdeur 
de pourpre, qui est I'indice de la perfection du souflre aurifique. — Diet. 
JTi/tJioSerm, 



114 THE WONDROUS STONEl 



III. 



Within the lake of crystal,^ 

Roseate as the sun's first ray. 
With eyes of diamond lustre,^ 

A thousand fishes play. 
A net within that water» 

A net with web of gold ; 
If cast where air-bells glitter. 

One shining fish shall hold. 

IV. 

V 

Amid the oldest mountains,' 

Whose tops are next the sun, 
The everlasting rivers 

Through glowing channels run. 

1 Les pliilosophes ont souvent donne le nom du Lac a leur vase, et au 
mercure, qm j est renferm^. — Diet. MytlioSerm. 

2 Lorsque la matiere est parvenue a iin certain degre de cuisson, il se 
forme sur sa superficie de petites boules qui ressemblent aux yeux des 
poissons. — Diet. Mytho-Herm. 

•* Quelquefois les Alchemistes ont entendu par le terme de Montagne 
leur vase, leur fourneau, et toute matiere m^tallique. — Diet. MythoSerm. 



THE WONDKOUS STONE. 115 

Those moimtains are of silver, 

Those channels are of gold ; 
And thence the countless treasures 

Of the kings of earth are rolled; 
But far — far must he wander 

O'er realms and seas unknown, 
Who seeks the ancient mountains, 

Where shines the Wondeotjs Stone ! 



x3 



116 



THE CRYSTAL YASB. 



In that mystic vase doth lie 

Life and immortality. 

Life to Mm who droops in death. 

To the gasping bosom breath. 

Immortality alone 

To him to whom the " Word" is known. 

Take it — 'tis a precious boon 

Vouchsafed by Hermes to his son. 



117 



THE NAMELESS WITCH. 



On the smouldering fire is thrown 
Tooth of fox and weasel bone. 
Eye of cat, and skull of rat. 
And the hooked wing of bat, 
Mandrake root and murderer's gore, 
Henbane, hemlock, hellebore. 
Stibium, storax, bdelHum, borax. 
Ink of cuttle-fish and feather 
Of the screech-owl, smoke together, 

n. 

On the ground is a circle traced; 
On that circle a seal is placed; 
On that seal is a symbol graven; 
On that symbol an orb of heaven; 



118 THE KAMELESS WITCH. 

By that orb is a figure shown ; 
By that figure a name is kno^^m : 
Wandering witch it is thine own ! — 

But thy name must not be named, 
Nor to mortal ears proclaimed. 

Shut are the leaves of the Griraoire dread ; 
The spell is muttered — the word is said. 
And that word, in a whisper drowned, 
Shall to thee like a whirlwind sound. 

Swift through the shivering air it flies — 
Swiftly it traverses earth and skies ; 
Wherever thou art — above — ^below — 
Thither that terrible word shall go. 

Art thou on the waste alone. 
To the white moon making moan ? 
Art thou, human eye eschewing. 
In some cavern pliilters brewing ? 



THE NAMELESS WITCH. 119 

By familiar swart attended — 
By a triple charm defended — 
Gatherest thou the grass that waves 
O'er dank pestilential graves ?— 
Or on broom or goat astride. 
To thy Sabbath dost thou ride ? 
Or with sooty imp doth match thee ? 
From his arms my spell shaU snatch thee. 
Shall it seek thee — and find thee, 
And with a chain bind thee ; 
And through the air whirl thee. 
And at my feet hurl thee ! 

By the word thou dreadst to hear ! 
Nameless witch ! — ^appear — appear ! 



120 



THE TEMPTATION OF SAINT ANTHONY.i 



Saint Anthony weary 
Of hermit-cell dreary, 
Of penance, and praying,, 
Of orison saying. 
Of mortification. 
And fleshly vexation. 
By good sprites forsaken, 
By sin overtaken. 
On flinty couch lying, 
Tor death, like Job, crying. 



1 See Callof 3 magnificent piece of diablerie upon this subject, and the 
less extravagant, but not less admirable, picture of Teniers ; and what will 
well bear comparison with either, Eetzch's illustration <rf the Walpurgis 
Night Revels of Goethe. 



'"■^.tii'j-i'ifi^;^ 




THE TEMPTATION OF SAINT ANTHONY. 



THE TEMPTATION OP SAINT ANTHONY. 121 

Was suddenly shrouded 
By thick mists, that clouded 
All objects with vapour. 
And through them, like taper, 
A siagle star shimmered, 
And with blue flame glimmered. 



li. 

What spell then was muttered 
May never be uttered ; 
Saint Anthony prayed not — 
Saint Anthony stayed not — 
But down — down descending 
Through caverns unending. 
Whose labyrinths travel 
May never unravel. 
By thundering torrent. 
By toppling crag horrent. 
All perils unheeding, 
As levin swift speeding. 



122 THE TEMPTATION OF SAINT ANTHONY. 

Habakkuk out-vying 
On seraph-wing flying. 
Was borne on fiend's pinion 
To Hell's dark dominion. 



III. 

Oh I rare is the reveby 
Of Tartarus' devilry ! 
Above him — around him — 
On all sides surround him — 
With wildest grimaces 
Fantastical faces ! 
Here huge bats are twittering. 
Strange winged mice flittering, 
Great homed owls hooting, 
Pale hissing stars shooting, 
Red fire-drakes careering 
With harpies are fleering. 
h. ^es whizzing and whirhng. 
Weird Sabbath -dance twirling. 



THE TEMPTATION OF SAINT ANTHONY. 123 

Round bearded goat scowling. 
Their wild refrain howling— 
"Alegremonos Alegremos 
Qnegente nue va tenemos."* 

IV. 

Here Lemnres, Lares, 
Trolls, foliots, fairies, 
Nymph, gnome, salamander, 
In frolic groups wander, 
rearfiil shapes there are rising. 
Of aspect surprising, 
Phantasmata Stygia, 
Spectra prodigia ! 
Of aspect horrific. 
Of gesture terrific. 

^ According to Delancre, the usual refrain of tlie Sorcerers' Sabbath- 
song. See his "Description of the Inconstancy of Evil Angels and 
Demons." "Delancre's Description of the Witches' Sabbath," observes 
the amusing author of Monsievir Oufle, "is so very ample and particular, 
that I don't believe I should be better informed concerning it if I had 
been there myself." « 



124 THE TEMPTATION OF SAINT ANTHONY. 

Where caldrons are seething, 
Lithe serpents are wreathing, 
And wizards are gloating 
On pois'nous scum floating, 
While skull and bone placed out 
In circle are traced out. 
Here witches air-gliding 
On broomsticks are riding, 
A hag a faun chases, 
A nun Pan embraces. 
Here mimic fights waging, 
HeU's warriors are raging ; 
Each legion commanding 
A chief is seen standing. 
Beelzebub gleaming. 
Like Gentile god seeming- 
Proud Belial advancing, 
With awful ire glancing; 
Asmodeus the cunning, 
Abaddon, light shunning, 



THE TEMPTATION OF SAINT ANTHONY 125 

Dark Molocli deceiving. 
His subtle webs weaving; 
Meressin air-dweUing, 
Red Mammon gold-telling. 



The Eiend, tlien dissembling, 
Addressed the saint trembHng : 
"These are thine if down bowing, 
Unto me thy sonl vowing. 
Thy worship thou'lt offer." 

"Back, Tempter, thy proffer 
With scorn is rejected." 

"Unto me thou'rt subjected. 
Jot thy doubts, by the Eternal ! " 
Laughed the Spirit Infernal. 

At his word then compelliiig, 
Forth rushed from her dwelKnc 



126 THE TEMPTATION OF SAINT ANTHONY. 

A shape so inviting. 
Enticing, delighting, 
With lips of such witchery. 
Tongue of such treachery, 
(That sin-luring smile is 
The torment of Lilis,) 
Like Eve in her Eden, 
Our father misleading. 
With locks so wide flowing 
Limbs so bright-glowing ; — 
That HeU hath bewrayed him 
If Heaven do not aid him. 

**Her charms are surrendered 
If worsliip is rendered." 

" Sathan, get thee behind me 
My sins no more blind me— 
By Jesu's temptation ! 
By lost man's salvation ! 
Be this vision banished !" 

And straight HeU evanished. 



127 



IISrSCEIPTION ON A GOLDEN KEY. 



Gold ! who wert a father's bane, 
Gold ! who wert a mother's stain, 
Gold ! be thou a daughter's chain 

Of purity. 
Shield her breast from sword and fire, 
Erom intemperate desire ; 
From a heaven-abandon'd sire, 

In charity!" 



128 



A MIDNIGHT MEETING OF THE LANCA- 
SHIEE WITCHES. 






[Scene — The Ruined Conventual Church of Whalley Ahhey.^ 

Mother Mould-heels. 

Head of monkey, brain of cat. 
Eye of weasel, tail of rat. 
Juice of mngwort, mastic, myrrh- 
All within the pot I stir. 

Old Wizabj). 

Here is foam from a mad dog's lips, 
Gather'd beneath the moon's eclipse. 
Ashes of a shroud consumed. 
And with deadly vapour fumed. 
These within the mess I cast — 
Stir the caldron—stir it fast ! 



MIDNIGHT MEETING OF THE LANCASHIKE WITCHES 129 

A Red-haired Witch. 

Here are snakes from out the river, 
Bones of toad and sea-calf's liver; 
Swine's flesh fatten' d on her brood, 
Wolfs tooth, hare's foot, weasel's blood. 
Skull of ape and fierce baboon, 
And panther spotted like the moon; 
Feathers of the horned owl. 
Daw, pie, and other fatal fowl, 
rruit from fig-tree never sown. 
Seed from cypress never grown. 
All within the mess I cast. 
Stir the caldron — stu- it fast f 

Maltson. 

In his likeness it is moulded, 
In his vestments 'lis enfolded. 
Ye may know it, as I show it ! 
In the breast sharp pias I stick, 
iVnd I drive them to the quick. 



130 A MIDNIGHT MEETING OF 

They are in — ^they are in — 

And the wretch's pangs begin. 

Now his heart 

reels the smart 

Through his marrow. 

Sharp as arrow. 

Torments quiver 

He shall shiver. 

He shall bum. 

He shall toss, and he shall tniB^ 

TJnavailingly. 

Aches shall rack him 

Cramps attack him ; 

He shall wail. 

Strength shall fail, 

TiUhedie 

Miserably! 



THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES. 131 

Third Witch. 

Over mountain, over valley, over woodland, over waste, 

On our gallant broomsticks riding, we have come with frantic 

haste. 
And the reason of our coming, as ye wot well, is to see 
Who this night, as new-made witch, to our ranks shall added be. 

Second Wizard. 

Beat the water, Demdike's daughter I 

Till the tempest gather o'er us ; 
Till the thunder strike with wonder 

And the lightnings flash before us ! 
Beat the water, Demdike's daughter ! 
Kuin seize our foes, and slaughtei ! 

Elizabeth Device. 

Mount, water, to the skies ! 
Bid the sudden storm arise. 
Bid the pitchy clouds advance. 
Bid the forked lightnings glance. 



132 A MIDNIGHT MEETING OP 

Bid the angry thunder growl. 
Bid the wild wind fiercely howl ! 
Bid the tempest come amain, 
Thunder, lightning, wind, and rain ! 

Choetjs. 
Beat the water, Demdike's daughter ! 
See the tempest gathers o'er us ; 
Ligntmng Hashes — thunder crashes. 
Wild winds sing in lusty chorus ! 

Mother Chattox. 

Here b jtiice of poppy bruised. 
With black hellebore infused; 
Here is mandrake's bleeding root, 
Mix'd with moonshade's deadly fruit ; 
Yiper's bag, with venom fill'd. 
Taken ere the beast was kiU'd; 
Adder's skin, and raven's feather, 
With sUeil ot beetle blent together; 



THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES. 1S3 

Dragonwort and barbatus. 
Hemlock black and poisonous ; 
Horn of bart, and storax red, 
Lapwing's blood, at midnight shed. 
In the heated pan tbey burn, 
And to pungent vapours turn, 
By this strong suffumigation. 
By this potent invocation. 
Spirits ! I compel you here ! 
All who list my call appear ! 

Invocation. 

White-robed brethren, who of oM, 
Nightly paced yon cloisters cold, 
Sleeping now beneath the mould ! 
I bid je rise. 

Abbots ! by the weakling fear'd. 
By the credulous revered. 
Who this mighty fabric rear'd ! 
I bid ye rise ! 



134 A MIDNIGHT MEETING OP 

And thou last and guilty one !* 
By thy lust of power undone, 
Whom in death thy fellows shun ! 

I bid thee come ! 

And thou, fair one/ who disdain' d 
To keep the vows thy lips had feign*d ; 
And thy snowy garments stain'd ! 
I bid thee come ! 

Mrs. Ntjtteb,. 
Thy aid I seek, infernal Power ! 
Be thy word sent to Malkin Tower, 
That the beldame old may know 
Where I will thou'dst have her go— 
What I wOl, thou'dst have her do ! 

Evil Spihit. 
Thou who seek'st the Demon's aid, 
Know'st the price that must be paid. 

1 John Paslew, last Abbot of Whalley. Capitale affectus supplicio — 1537, 
i Isole de Hetou 



THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES. 135 



Mrs. Nutter. 



Spirit, grant the aid I crave. 

And that thou wishest thou shalt have. 

Another worshipper is won, 

Thine to be when all is done. 



Evil Spirit. 

Enough, proud witch, I am content. 
To Malkin Tower the word is sent, 
Eorth to her task the beldame goes, 
And where she points the streamlet flows ; 
Its customary bed forsaking. 
Another distant channel making. 
Round about like elfets tripping, 
Stock and stone, and tree are skipping ; 
Halting where she plants her staff. 
With a wild exulting laugh. 
Ho ! ho ! 'tis a merry sight. 
Thou hast given the hag to-night. 



A MIDNIGHT MEETING OP 

Lo ! the sheepfold, and the herd. 
To another site are stirr'd ! 
And the rugged limestone quarry, 
Where 'twas digg'd may no more tarry; 
While the gobiin-haunted dingle. 
With another dell must mingle. 
Pendle Moor is in commotion. 
Like the billows of the ocean. 
When the winds are o'er it ranging. 
Heaving, falling, bursting, changing. 
Ho ! ho ! 'tis a merry sight, 
Thou hast given the hag to night. 

Lo ! the moss-pool sudden flies. 
In another spot to rise ; 
And the scanty-grown plantation 
Finds another situation. 
And a more congenial soil. 
Without needing woodman's toil. 
Now the warren moves — and see ! 
How the burrowing rabbits fle^ 



THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES. 13* 

Hither, tliither till they find it, 
With another brake behind it. 

Ho ! ho ! 'tis a merry sight, 

Thou hast given the hag to-night. 

Lo ! new lines the witch is tracing. 
Every well-known mark effacing, 
Elsewhere, other bounds erecting. 
So the old there's no detecting. 

Ho ! ho ! 'tis a pastime quite, 

Thou hast given the hag to-night. 

The hind at eve, who wander'd o'er 
The dreary waste of Pendle Moor, 
Shall wake at dawn, and in surprise, 
Doubt the strange sight that meets his e- 
The patliway leading to his hut 
Winds differently — the gate is shut. 
The ruin on the right that stood. 
Lies on the left, and nigh the wood; 
The paddock fenced with wall of stone, 



138 MIDNIGHT MEETING OF THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES, 



Well-stock'd with kine, a mile hath flown. 
The sheepfold and the herd are gone. 
Through channels new the brooklet rushes, 
Its ancient course conceal' d by bushes. 
Where the hollow was a mound 
Rises from the upheaved ground. 
Doubting, shouting with surprise, 
How the fool stares, and rubs his eyes ! 
All so changed, the simple elf 
Fancies he is changed himself I 

Ho ! ho ! 'tis a merry sight 

The hag shall have when dawns the light. 

But see ! she halts and waves her hand, 

All is done as thou hast plann'd* 



139 



THE MANDEAKE.1 



MwXv Si iiiv Ka\4ov<ri fleoi, x'^^c'bv Se t opv<r<r€iv 
'AvSpdai, ye Ovrp-oto't, OeoX fie re iravra Svvavrai. 

HOMEETJS. 

The mandrake grows 'neath the gallows-tree. 
And rank and green are its leaves to see ; 
Green and rank, as the grass that waves 
Over the unctuous earth of graves ; 

1 The supposed malignant influence of the mandrake is frequently alluded 
to by our elder dramatists j and with one of the greatest of them, "Webster 
(as might be expected from a muse revelling hke a ghoul in graves and 
sepulchres), the plant is an especial favourite. But none have plimged so 
deeply into the subject as Sir Thomas Browne. He tears up the fable root 
and branch. Concerning the danger ensuing from eradication of the man- 
drake, he thus writes : — " The last assertion is, that there follows a hazard 
of life to them that puU it up, that some evil fate pursues them, and that 
they live not very long hereafter. Therefore the attempt hereof among 
the ancients was not in ordinary way; but, as Pliny informeth, when they 
intended to take up the root of this plant, they took the wind thereof, and 



140 THE MANDRAKE. 

And though all around it be bleak and bare, 
Preely the mandrake flonrisheth there. 

Maranatha — Anathema ! 
Bread is the curse of mandragora ! 

T^uthanasy ! 

At the foot of the gibbet the mandrake springs, 

Just where the creaking carcase swings ; 

Some have thought it engendered 

From the fat that drops from the bones of the dead; 

Some have thought it a human thing j 

But this is a vain imagining, 

Maranatha — Anathema ! 
Dread is the curse of mandragora ! 

t 



with a sword describing three circles about it, they digged it up, looking 
toward the west. A conceit not only injurious unto truth and con- 
futable by daily experience, but somewhat derogatory unto the providence 
of God ; that is, not only to impose so destructive a quality on any plant, 
but to conceive a vegetable whose parts are so useful unto many, should, 
in the only taking up, prove mortal unto any. This were to introduce a 
second forbidden fruit, and enhance the first malediction, making it not j 
only mortal for Adam to taste the one, but capital for his posterity to 
eradicate, or dig up the other." — Vulgar Brrors, book ii. c. vi. ' 



THE MANDRAKE. 141 

A charnel leaf doth tlie mandrake wear, 

A charnel fruit doth the mandrake bear ; 

Yet none like the mandrake hath such great power. 

Such virtue resides not in plant or flower ; 

Aconite, hemlock, or moonshade, I ween, 

None hath a poison so subtle and keen. 

Maranatha — Anathema ! 
Bread is the curse of mandr agora ! 



And whether the mandrake be create 
Flesh with the flower incorporate, 
I know not ; yet, if from the earth 'tis rent. 
Shrieks and groans from the root are sent ; 
Shrieks and groans, and a sweat like gore. 
Oozes and drops from the clammy core. 

Maranatha — Anathema ! 
Bread is the curse of mandragora ! 



"Whoso gathereth the mandrake shall surely die ; 
Blood for blood is his destiny. 



142 THE MAOT)RAKE. 

Some who have plucked it have died with groaus. 
Like to the mandrake's expiring moans ; 
Some have died raving, and some beside. 
With penitent prayers — ^bnt all have died. 

Jem ! save us hy night and btf day ! 
From the terrible death ofmandragora / 



I 



U5 



EPHIALTES.. 



I BIDE alone — I ride by night 

Through the moonless air on a courser white ! 

Over the dreaming earth I fly. 

Here and there — at my phantasy ! 

My frame is withered, my visage old. 

My locks are frore, and my hones ice-cold. 

The wolf will howl as I pass his lair, 

The ban-dog moan, and the screech-owl stare. 

Por breath, at my coming, the sleeper strains. 

And the freezing current forsakes his veins ! 



144 EPHIALTES. 

Vainly for pity the wretch may sue— 
Merciless Mara no prayers subdue ! 

To his couch Iflii-^ 
On his breast I sit — 

Astride ! astride ! astt 
And one charm alone 
(A hollow stone ! ^) .*. 

Can scare me from his 



1 



II.. 

A thoiisand antic shapes I take ; 

The stoutest heart at my touch will quake. 

The miser dreams of a bag of gold. 

Or a ponderous chest on his bosom rolled. 

1 In reference to tMs imaginary charm, Sir Thomas Browne observes, in 
his Vulgar JErrors, "What natural effects can reasonably be expected, 
when, to prevent the Ephialtes, or Mghtmare, we hang a hollow stone in 
onr stables?" Grose also states, "that a stone with a hole in it, hung at 
the bed's head, will prevent the nightmare, and is therefore called a hag- 
stone." The belief in this charm still lingers in some districts, and main- 
tains, Kke the horse-shoe affixed to the barn-door, a feeble stand against 
the superstition-destroying "march of intellect." 



EPHIALTES. 144^ 

The drunkard groans 'neath a cask of wine ; 
The reveller swelts 'neath a weighty ehine. 
The recreant turns, by his foes assailed, 
To flee ! — but his feet to the ground are nailed. 
The goatherd dreams of the mountain-tops. 
And, dizzily reeling, downward drops. 
The murderer feels at his throat a knife, 
And gasps, as his victim gasp'd for life ! 
The thief recoils from the scorching brand; 
The mariner drowns in sight of land ! 
— ^Thus sinful man have I power to fray, 
Torture and rack — but not to slay ! 
But ever the couch of purity. 
With shuddering glance I hurry by. 

Then mount I away ! 

To horse! I saif. 

To horse / astride ! astride ! 

The jire-drahe shoots — 

The screech-owl hoots — 

As through the air I glide ! 



146 



THE OOEPSE-OANDLR 



Lambere flamma ra^o^ et circum funera pasci. 

I. 

TffROTJGH the midniglit gloom did a pale blue light 

To the churchyard mirk wing its lonesome flight : — 

Thrice it floated those old walls roiiTid — 

Thrice it paused — ^till the grave it found. 

Over the grass-green sod it glanced. 

Over the fresh-turned earth it danced, 

Like a torch in the night-breeze quivermg— 

Never was seen so gay a thing ! 

Never was seen so blithe a sight 

As the midnight dance of that pale blue light I 

n. 

Now what ot that pale blue flame dost know ? 
Canst tell where it comes from, or where it will go ? 



THE CORPSE-CANDLE. 147 

Is it the soul, released from clay. 

Over the earth that takes its way. 

And tarries a moment in mirth and glee 

Where the corse it hath quitted interr'd shall be ? 

Or is it the trick of some fanciful sprite, 

That tak'^th in mortal mischance delight, 

And marketh the road the coffin shall go. 

And the spot where the dead shall be soon laid low ? 

Ask him who can answer these questions aright ; 

/ know not the cause of that pale blue light ! 



l2 



U8 



THE HAND OF GLOEY.» 




From the corse that hangs on the roadside tree 

(A murderer's corse it needs must be), 

Sever the right hand carefully ; — 

Sever the hand that the deed hath done, 

Ere the flesh that clings to the bones be gone ; 

In its dry veins must blood be none. 

Those ghastly fingers white and cold, 

Within a winding-sheet enfold; 

Count the mystic count of seven : 

Name the Governors of heaven.^ 

Then in earthen vessel place them. 

And with dragon-wort encase them, 

* See the celebrated recipe for the Hand of Glory in "Les Secrets dii 
Petit Albert." 

* The seven planets, so called bj Mercurius Trismegistus. 



THE HA3?f) OF GLORY. 149 

Bleacli them in the noonday sun, 

Till the marrow melt and run. 

Till the flesh is pale and wan, 

AlS a moon-ensilvered cloud. 

As an unpolluted shroua. 

Next within their chill embrace 

The dead man's awful candle place ; 

Of murderer's fat must that candle be 

(You may scoop it beneath the roadside tree), 

Of wax, and of Lapland sisame. 

Its wick must be twisted of hair of the dead. 

By the crow and her brood on the wild waste shed. 

Wherever that terrible light shall bum 

Yainly the sleeper may toss and turn ; 

His leaden lids shall he ne'er unclose 

So long as the magical taper glows. * 

Life and treasure shall he eommand 

Who knoweth the charm of the Glorious Hand ! 

But of black cat's gall let him aye have care, 

And of screech-owl's venomous blood beware ! 



150 



THE CAREION CEOW. 



The Carrion Crow is a sexton bold. 

He raketh the dead from out of the mould ; 

He delveth the ground like a miser old, 

Stealthily hiding his store of gold. Caw I Caw ! 

The Carrion Crow hath a coat of black, 

Snky and sleek like a priest's to his back; 

Like a lawyer he grubbeth — no matter what way — ' 

The fouler the offal, the richer his prey. 

Caw! Caw ! the Carrion Crow 1 
Big ! Dig ! in the ground below! 

' Set to music by Mr. F. Eomer. 



THE CARRION CROW. 151 

II. 

The Carrion Crow hatli a dainty maw, 

"With savory pickings he crammeth his craw ; 

Kept meat from the gibbet it pleaseth his whim, 

It never can hang too long for him ! Caw ! Caw / 

The Carrion Crow smelleth powder, 'tis said, 
Like a soldier escheweth the taste of cold lead; 
No jester, or mime, hath more marvellous wit. 
For, wherever he hghteth, he maketh a hit ! 

Caw ! Caw ! the Carrion Crow ! 

Dig! I)ig! in the ground below! 



152 



THE HEADSMAN'S AXE. 



The axe was sharp, and heavy as lead. 
As it touched the neck, off went the head ! 

Whir — whir — whir — whir ! 

II. 
Queen Anne^ laid her white throat upon the block. 
Quietly waiting the fatal shock ; 
The axe it severed it right in twain, 
And so quick — so true — that she felt no pain ! 

Whir — whir — whir — tshir 



III. 
Salisbury's Countess, she would not die 
As a proud dame should — decorously. 

' * Anne Boleyn, 



THE headsman's AXE. 153 

Lifting my axe, I split her skiill, 

And tlie edge for a month it was notched and dnll. 

Whir — whir — whir — whir ! 

IV. 

Queen Catherine Howard gave me a fee,— 
A chain of gold — to die easily : 
And her costly present she did net me. 
For I touched her head and away it flew ! 

Whir — whir — whir — whir / 



umffrotts §allab& 



157 



THE CHllONICLE OF GARGANTUA : 

SHO^\TNG HOW HE TOOK AWAY THE GREAT BELLS OP 
NOTKE'DAME. 



I. 

Gbandgousier was a toper boon, as Rabelais will tell ye, 
Who, once upon a time, got drunk with his old wife Gargamelly: 
Eight royally the bout began (no queen was more punctilious 
Than Gargamelle) on chitterlings, botargos, godebillios !^ 

Sing, Carimari, carimara ! golynoly, golynolo ! 

n. 
They licked theii lips, they cut their quips — a flask then each 

selected ; 
And with good Greek, as satin sleek, their gullets they humected. 

1 " Gaudebillaux sont grasses trippes de coiraux. Coiraux sont bceufa 
engresses a ia criche, et pr^s guimaulx. Pr^s guimaulx sont qui portent 
herbe dexix foys I'an." — Eabelais. 



158 THE CHRONICLE OF GARGAlfTUA. 

!Rang stave and jest, the €ask they presaed — ^but ere away the 

wine went, 
Occnrred most unexpectedly Queen GargameUe's confinement ! 
Sing, Carimari, carimara ! golynoly, golynolo ! 

III. 
No sooner was Gargai^tua born, than from his infant throttle 
Arose a most melodious cry to his nurse to bring the bottle ! 
Whereat Grandgousier much rejoiced^ — as it seemed, unto his 

thinking, 
A certain sign of a humour fine for most immoderate drinking ! 
Sing, Carimari, carimara ! golynoly, golynolo ! 

IV. 

Gargantua shot up, like a tower some city looking over ! 

His full-moon visage in the clouds, leagues off, ys might 

discover ! 
^s gracious person he arrayed — I do not mean to laugh at ye — 
With a suit of clothes, and great trunk hose, of a thousand ells 

of taffety. 

Sing, Carimari, carimara ! golynoly, golynolo ! 



THE CHRONICLE OF GARGANTUA. 159 

V. 

Around his waist Gargantua braced a belt of silk bespangled, 
And from his hat, as a platter flat, a long blue feather dangled ; 
And down his hip, like the mast of ship, a rapier huge 

descended, 
"With a dagger keen, stuck his sash between, all for ornament 

intended. 

Sing, Carimari, carimara I golynoly, golynolo ! 

VI. 

So learned did Gargantua grow, that he talked like one whose 

turn is 
Tor logic, with a sophister, hight Tubal Holofemes. 
In Latin, too, he lessons took from a tutor old and seedy. 
Who taught the " Quid est," and the " Pars," — one Jobelin de' 

Bridal 

Sing, Carimari, carimara ! golynoly, golynolo ! 

VII. 

A monstrous mare Gargantua rode — a black Numidian courser — 
A beast so droU, of My or foal, was never seen before sir ! 



160 THE CHRONICLE OF GARGANTUA. 

Great elephants looked small as auts, by her side — ^her hoofs were 

cloven ! 
Her tail was like the spire at Langes — her mane like goat-beaidb 

woven ! 

Sing, Carimari, carimara ! golynoly, golynolo ! 

Yin. 
¥pon this mare Gargantua rode until he came to Paris, 
Which, from Utopia's capital, as we aH know, rather far is — 
The thundering bells of Notre Dame he took from out the steeple, 
And he hung them round his great mare's neck in the sight of 
all the people ! 

Sing, Carimari, carimara ! golynoly, golynolo ! 

IX. 

Now, what Gargantua did beside, I shall pass by without notice^ 

As well as the absurd harangue of that wiseacre Janotus ; 

But the legend teUs that the thundering beUs Bragmardo brought 

away, sir. 
And that in the towers of Notre-Dame they are swinging to this 

day, sir ! 

Sing, Carimari, carimara ! golynoly, golynolo 1 



THE CHRONICLE OF GARGANTUA. 161 

X. 

Now tlie great deeds of Gargantua, — how Ms fatlier's foes he 

followed — 
How pilgrims six, with their staves and scrips, in a lettuce-leaf 

he swallowed — 
How he got blind drnnk with a worthy moni:, Friar Johnny of 

the rnimels,' — 
And made huge cheer, till the wine and beer flew about his camp 

in runnels — 

Sing, Carimari, carimara 1 golynoly, golynolo ! 

XI. 

How he took to wife, to cheer his life, fat Badebec the moper ; 

And by her begat a lusty brat, Pautagruel the toper ! 

And did other things, as the story sings, too long to find a place 



Are they not writ, with matchless wit, by Alcofribas Nasier ?* 
Sing, Carimari, carimara ! golynoly, golynolo ! 

* The anagram of Frangois Eabelais. 



162 



MY OLD COMPLAINT: 



ITS CAUSE AND CURE. 



Pm sadly afraid of my Old Complaint — 

Dying of thirst. — ^Not a drop I've drunk 
For more than an honr : 'Tis too long to wait. 
Wonderful how my spirits have sunk ! 
Provocation enough it is for a saint, 
To suffer so much from my Old Complaint ! 



"What is it like, my Old Complaint ? 

I'll tell you anon, since you wish to know. 
Tt troubles me now, but it troubled me first, 

A^hen I was a youngster, years ago ! 



mM^H 




I\IY OLD COiMPLAINT. 

I'm sad!y afraid of my old complaint." 



MY OLD COMPLAINT. 163 

Bubble-and-squeak is the image quaint ;— 
Of what it is like, my Old Complaint ! 



in. 

The Herring, in a very few minutes, we're told. 

Loses his life, ta'en out o' the sea; 

Rob me of Wine, and you will behold 

Just the same thing happen to me. 

Thirst makes the poor little Herring so faint ;- 
Thikst is the Cause of my Old Complaint ! 

IV. 

The bibulous Salmon is ill content, 

Unless he batheth his jowl in brine : 
And so, my spirits are quickly spent. 
Unless I dip ray muzzle in Wine ! 

Myself in the jolly old Salmon I paint : — 
Wine is the Cure of my Old Complaint. 
Give me full bottles and no restraint. 
And little you'U hear of my Old Complaint ! 
M 2 



164 



MY OLD COMPLAINT. 



V. 



I never indtilge in fanciful stuff. 

Or idlY prate, if my flagon be full ; 
Give me good Claret, and give me enough, 
And then my spirits are never dull. 
Give me good Claret and no constraint ; 
And I soon get rid of my Old Complaint ! 

Herring and Salmon my friends wiU acquaint 
With the Cause and the Cure of my Old Complaint 



165 



JOLLY NOSK» 



Jolly nose 1 the bright rubies that garnish thy tip 

Are dug from the mines of canary; 
And to keep up their lustre I moisten my lip 

With hogsheads of claret and sherry. 

II. 

Jolly nose ! he who sees thee across a broad glass 

Beholds thee in all thy perfection ; 
And to the pale snout of a temperate ass 

Entertains the profoundest objection. 

1 Arranged by Mr. G. Herbert EodwelU 



166 JOLLY NOSE. 



III. 



For a big-bellied glass is the palette I use. 

And the choicest of wine is my colour ; 
And I find that my nose takes the mellowest hues 

Tlie fuller I fiU it— the fuller ! 

IV. 

JoUy nose ! there are fools who say drii.k hurts the sight : 

Such dullards know nothing about it ; 
'Tis better, with wine, to extinguish the light. 

Than live always in darkness, without it. 



167 



THE 
WINE DEINKEE'S DECLARATION. 

TO ALL AND SUNDRY WHOM IT MAY CONCERi^. 



I. 

The Toper who knows how to empty his can. 
Is not half so afraid of a highwayman. 

As he ist of indifferent tipple ; 
With the last a stout fellow may fight for his purse ; 
Of the other the consequence certain is worse, 

Down the throat if permitted to ripple. 

II. 
If acetose claret I Happen to sip, 
'Tis my wish, as the beaker I dash from my lip. 

That my throat to a short span would dwindle ; 
But when I get hold of the vintage I prize, 
I care not, although it should shoot out in size, 

Until like a crane's neck it spindle. 



168 THE wine-drinker's declaration. 

III. 

All wat'ry potations I let 'em alone. 

And never will use snch, until I am grown 

A Hermit, and dwell in a cavern ; 
But then the good Anchorite brandy must get 
(An anker, right often,) his whistle to wet, 

Or else he will sigh for the tavern. 

IV. 

My maxim is ever to drink of the best. 

And in that I resemble sound soakers at rest ; 

Our Fathers we always should follow : 
■ Old customs, old manners, we never should quit. 
Or the world will judge us, as some folks judge of it. 

And declare our professions are hollow. 



169 




WITH MY BACK TO THE FIEE. 



'iTH my back to the fire, and my pauncli to the table 
Let me eat, — ^let me drink as Long as I am able ; 
Let me eat, — ^let me drink whate'er I set my whims on. 
Until my nose is blue, and my jolly visage crimson. 

II. 

The doctor preaches abstinence, and threatens me with dropsy. 
But such advice, I needn't say, from drinking never stops ye : — 
The man who likes good liquor is of nature brisk and brave, 

boys, 
So drink away ! — drink while you may ! — there's no drinking in 

the grave, boys. 



170 



THE OLD WATER-DEINKER'S GRAVE. 



I. 

A STINGY curmudgeon Kes under the stone. 
Who ne'er had the heart to get mellow ; — 

A base water-drinker ! — I'm glad he is gone. 
We're well rid of the frowsy old fellow. 



You see how the nettles environ his grave ! 

Weeds only could spring from his body. 
While his heirs spend the money he fasted to save, 

In wine and in women — the noddy ! 



171 



CIDER OF DEYONSHIEE. 



I. 

CiDEB, good of Devonsliire — 

Biat just now is my desire. 

Let the blockheads laugh, who will. 

Quick, mine host, the flagon fill 

With the admirable juice. 

Which the apple-vats produce. 

Better 'tis, I will maintaia, 

Than the stuff you call champagne. 

Thirst I feel — and my desire 

Is the drink of Devonshire. 

n. 

Cider fine ! thou hast the merit. 
With thy lightness and thy spirit. 



172 CIDER OF DEVONSHIRE. 

Not to mystify tlie brain ! 
You may fill, and fill again. 
Quaff as much as you require 
Of the drink of Devonshire. 

m. 

'Tis the property of cider — 
Ne'er to make a breach the wider. 
With your friend you would not quarrel 
Were you to consume a barrel. 
Idle bickering and fooling 
Dwell not in this liquor cooling. 
Generous thoughts alone inspire 
Draughts of dulcet Devonshire. 

IV. 

Cider sparkling, cider placid, 
False it is to call it acid. 
To the light you hold the cup. 
How the atoms bright leap up ! 
How the liquid foams and bubbles, 
Ready to dispel your troubles ! 



CIDER OF DEVONSHIRE. 



173 



How its fragrancj invites ! 
How its flavour fine delights, 
As the lip and throat it bites I 
Pour it down ! you'll never tire 
Of delicious Devonshire ! 



174 



YENITE POTEMUS.^ 



I. 
Venite, jovial sons of Hesper, 
Wlio from matin unto vesper, _^,. , 

Roam abroad sub Domino ; *?P^ 

Benedictine, Carmelite, r 

Quaff we many a flask to-night ^ 

Salutari nostro. ■ * 

If the wine be, as I think, '' '^ 

Eit for reverend lips to drink 

Jubilemus ei. 
Ecce bonum vinum, venite potemus 1 

II. 

Hodie, when cups are full. 
Not a thought or care should dull 
Corda vestra. 

Adapted from an old French Imitatoyre Bacliique. 



177 



ALE AND SACK. 



I. 
YoTJR Gaul may tipple his thin, thin wine, 
And prate of its hue, and its fragrance fine, 
ShaU never a drop pass throat of mine 

Again — again ! 
His claret is meagre (but let that pass), 
I can't say much for his hippocrass. 
And never more will I fill my glass 

With cold champagne. 

II. 
But froth me a flagon of English ale, 
Stout, and old, and as amber pale, 
Which heart and head will alike assail — 

Ale — ale be mine ! 



178 ALE AND SACK. 

Or brew me a pottle of sturdy sack, 
Sherris and spice, with a toast to its back, 
And need shall be none to bid me attack 

That drink divine ! 



.179 



DRUID. 



I. 

Through the world have I wandered wide. 
With never a wife, or a friend by my side, 
Save Draid — a comrade staunch and tried : — 

Troll on away ! 
Druid, my dog, is a friend in need, 
Druid, my dog, is a friend indeed, 
Druid, my dog, is of EngKsh breed ! 

More need I say r 
— Troll on away ! 

II. 
Druid would perish my life to save, 
Tor faithful Druid like fate I'd brave, 
The dog and his master shall find one grave, 

Troll on away I 

If 2 



180 DllUID. 

Life ! I heed not its loss a feather ! 

And when black Atropos snaps my tether. 

She must cut twice — we'll die together ! 

No more FU say. 

— Troll on away ! 



181 



THE TFIETY REQUISITES.^ 



Thirty points of perfection eacli judge understands. 

The standard of feminine beauty demand 

Three white : — and, without further prelude, we know 

That the skin, hands, and teeth, should be pearly as snow. 

Three black : — and our standard departure forbids 

From dark eyes, darksome tresses, and darkly-fringed lids. 

Three red : — and the lover of comeliness seeks 

For the hue of the rose in the lips, nails, and cheeks. 

Three long : — and of this you, no doubt, are aware ? 

Long the body should be, long the hands, long the hair. 

1 Imitated from a trentaine of beaux Sis, recorded in tlie Dames 
Gal antes. Brantome gives them in Spanish prose from the lips of a 
fair Toledan; they are, however, to be met with in an old French work 
anterior to our chronicler, entitled De la Louange et Seaute des 
Dames. The same maxims have been turned into Latin hexameters by 
Fran9ois Comiger (an ominous name for a writer on such a subject), and 
into Italian verse by Yincentio Calmeta. 



1S2 THE THIRTX" REQUISITES. 

Three short : — and herein nicest beauty appears — 
Peet short as a fairy's, short teeth, and short ears. 
Three large : — and remember this rule as to size, 
Embraces the shoulders, the forehead, the eyes. 
Three narrow : — a maxim to every man's taste — 
Circumference small in mouth, ankle, and waist. 
Three round : — and in this I see infinite charms — 
E-ounded fulness apparent in leg, hip, and arms. 
Three fine : — and can aught the enchantment eclipse. 
Of fine tapering fingers, fine hair, and fine lips ? 
Three small : — and my thirty essentials are told — 
Small head, nose, and bosom, compact in its mould. 

Now the dame who comprises attractions like these. 
Will require not the cestus of Venus to please ; 
While he who has met with an union so rare. 
Has had better luck than has fall'n to my share. 



1«3 



LOVE'S HOMILY. 



Saint Atjgustin, one day, in a fair maiden's presence, 
Declared that pure love of the soul is the essence ! 
And that faith be it ever so firm and potential. 
If love be not its base, must prove uninfluential. 
Saint Bernard, likewise, has a homily left us — 
(Sole remnant of those, of which fate hath bereft us !) 
lYliere the good Saint confers, without any restriction. 
On those who love most, his entire benediction. 
Saint Ambrose, again, in his treatise, "Be Virgine,'^ 
To love one another is constantly urging ye ; 
And a chapter he adds, where he curses — not blesses — 
The ill-fated wight who no mistress possesses ! 
Wise De Lyra, hereon, makes this just observation. 
That the way to the heart is the way to salvation ; 
And the further from love — we're the nearer damnation ! 



184 love's humily. 

Besides, as remarks this profound theologian, 

(Who was perfectly versed in the doctrine Ambrogian) — 

He, who loves not, is worse than the infamous set ye call 

Profane, unbelieving, schismatic, heretical; 

For, if he the fire of one region should smother, 

He is sure to be scorched by the flames of the other ! 

And this is the reason, perhaps, why Saint Gregory 

(The Pope, who reduced the stout Arians to beggary) 

Averred — (keep this counsel for ever before ye) 

That the lover on earth has his sole purgatory ! 

Peroration. 

Let your minds then be wrapp'd in devout contemplation 
Of the precepts convey'd by this grave exhortation ; 
Be loving, beloved, and never leave off— it's 
The way to fulfil both the law and the prophets ! 



t8.^ 



A CHAPTER OF HIGHWAYMEN. 



AiE — " Which nobody can 



Op every rascal of every kiud, 

The most notorious to my mind, 

Was the Cavalier Captain, gay Jemmy Hind !^ 

Which nobody can deny. 

But the pleasantest coxcomb among them all 

Per lute, coranto, and madrigal. 

Was the galliard Frenchman, Claude Du-Val i^ 

Which nobody can deny. 

1 James Hind (the "Prince of Prigs"), a royalist captain of some dis- 
tinction, was hanged, drawn, and quartered, in 1652. Some good stories 
are told of him. He had the credit of robbing Cromwell, Bradshaw, and 
Peters. His discourse to Peters is particularly edifying. 

2 See Du-Val's life by Doctor Pope, or Leigh Hunt's brilliant sketch of 
him in The Indicator, 



4 

ox!2f ! 



186 A CHAPTER Ot*' HIGHWAY JIEN. 

And Tobygloak never a coach could rob. 

Could lighten a pocket or empty a fob. 

With a neater hand than Old Mob, Old Mob !^ 

Which nobody can 

Nor did housebreaker ever deal harder knocks 

On the stubborn lid of a good strong box, 

Than the prince of good fellows, Tom Cox, Tom Cox 

Which nobody can deny. 

And blither fellow on broad highway. 
Did never with oath bid traveller stay, 
Than devil-may-care Will Holloway !^ 

Which nobody can deny. 

1 We cannot say much ia favour of this worthy, whose name was 
Thomas Simpson. The reason of his sobriquet does not appear. He was 
not particularly scrupulous as to his mode of appropriation. One of his 
sayings is, however, on record. He told a widow whom he robhed, " that 
the end of a woman's husband begins in tears, but the end of her tears is 
another husband." " Upon which," says his chronicler, " the gentlewoman 
gave him. about fifty guineas." 

2 Tom was a sprightly fellow, and carried his sprightliness to the gal- 
lows ; for just before he was turned ofi" he kicked Mr. Smith, the ordinary* 
and the hangman out of the cart — a piece of pleasantry which created, as 
may be supposed, no small sensation. 

3 Many agreeable stories, are related of HoUoway. His career, however, 



A CHAPTEK OF HIGn^AYMEN. 187 

And in roguery nought could exceed the tricks 
Of Gettikgs and Gket, and the five or six, 
Who trod in the steps of bold Neddy Wicks !^ 

Which 



Nor could any so handily break a lock 

As Shippaed, -^ho stood on the Newgate dock. 

And nicknamed the jailers around him, " his flock I"^ 

Which nobody can deny. 



closed with a murder. He contrived to break out of Newgate, but re- 
turned to witness tiie trial of one of Ms associates; when, upon the 
attempt of a turnkey, one Eichard Spurling, to seize him, Will knocked 
him on the head in the presence of the whole court. Por this offence he 
suffered the extreme penalty of the law in. 1712. 

^ TTick's adventures with Madame Toly are highly diverting. It was 
this hero, not Turpin, as has been erroneously stated, who stopped the 
celebrated Lord Mohun. Of Gcfctings and Grey, and " the five or sis," the 
less said the better. 

- One of Sheppard's recorded mots. When a Bible was pressed upon 
his acceptance by Mr. Wagstaff, the chaplain. Jack refused it, saying, 
that in his situation one file would be worth all the Bibles in the world." 
A gentleman who visited JS'ewgate asked him to dinner ; Sheppard re- 
phed, " that he would take an early opportunity of waiting upon him." 
And we believe he kept his word. 



188 



A CHAPTER OF HIGHWAYMEN. 



Nor did highwayman ever before possess, 
Tor ease, for security, danger, distress. 
Such a mare as Dick Tuepin's Black Bess ? Black Bess ! 

Which nobody can 



189 



THE RAPPAREES. 



Am—'' The Groves of the Fool?^ 

Let the Englislimaii boast of Ms Turpins and Sheppards, as 

cocks of tlie walk, 
His Mulsacks, and Cheneys, and Swiftnecks^ — it's all botheration 

and talk ; 
Compared with the robbers of Ireland, they don't come within 

half a mile. 
There never were yet any rascals, like those of my own native isle. 

First and foremost comes Redmond O'Hanlon, allowed the 

first thief of the world,"^ 
That o'er the broad province of Ulster, the Rapparee banner 

unfurled ; 

1 A trio of famous High-Tobygloaks. Swiftneek was a captain of Irish, 
dragoons, by the bye. 

- Eedmond O'Sanlon was the Eob Eoy of Ireland, and Ms adven- 
tiires, maay of which axe exceedingly curious, would furnish as rich 



190 THE Ra±'J:'AREES. 



1 



Och ! he was an elegant fellow, as ever you saw in your life, 
At fingering the blunderbuss trigger, or handling the throat- 
cutting k]iife. 

materials for the novelist, as they have already done for the ballad-mongers : 
some of them arn, however, siifficiently well narrated in a pleasant little 
tome, published at Belfast, entitled The History of the Bwpparees. We 
are also in possession of a funeral discourse preached at the obsequies of the 
*•' noble and renowned" Henry St. John, Esquire,, who was unfortunately 
killed by the Tories (the Destructives of those days), in the induction to 
which we find some allusion to Eedmond. After describing the thriving 
condition of the north of Ireland, about 1680, the Rev. Lawrence Power, 
the author of the sermon, says, " One mischief there was, which, indeed, 
in a great measure destroyed aU, and that was, a pack of insolent bloody 
outlaws, whom they here call Tories. These had so riveted themselves 
in these parts, that by the interest they had among the natives, and some 
English, too, to their shame he it spoken, they exercise a kiad of separate 
sovereignty in three or four counties in the north of Ireland. Eedmond 
O'HanIjON is their chief, and has been these many years ; a cunning, 
dangerous fellow, who, though proclaimed an outlaw with the rest of his 
crew, and siuns of money set upon their heads, yet he reigns still, and 
keeps all in subjection, so far that 'tis credibly reported he raises m&re 
in a year hy contribution a-la-mode de France than the Icing's land taxes 
and chimney -money come to, and thereby is enabled to bribe clerks and 
officers, IF NOT theie masters, (!) and makes all too much truckle to 
Mm." Agitation, it seems, was not confined to our own days— but the 
" finest country in the world" has been, and ever will be the same. The 
old game is played under a new colour — the only difference being, that 
had Hedmond Hved in our time, he would, in all probability, not only 
have pillaged a county, but represented it in. parliament. The spirit of 
the Eapparee is still abroad — though we fear there is little of the Tory 



THE KAPPAKEES. 101 

And then such a dare-devil squadron as that which composed 

Redmond's tail I 
Meel, Mactigh, Jack Reilly, Shaa Bernagh, Phil Galloge, and 

Arthur O'Neal; 
Shure never were any boys like 'em, for rows, agitation, and sprees ; 
Kot a ra;p did they leave in the country, and hence they were 

called JS^^parees.^ 

iNext comes Powee, the Great Tory^ of Munster, a gentleman 

born every inch, 
(And strong Jack Macpheeson of Leinster, a horse-shoe who 

broke at a pinch ; 
• The last was a feUow so lively, not death e'en his courage could 



I lor as he was led to the gaUows, he played his own " march to 

the camp." 5 

, left about it. We recommend this note to the serious consideration of 
the declaimers against the sufferings of the " six millions." (1834.) 

1 Here Titus was slightly in error. He mistook the cause for the effect. 
"They were styled Eapparees," Mr. Malone says, "from being armed with 
a half-pike, called by the Irish a rapparee." — Todd's JoHNSOiir. 
1 - Tory, so called from the Irish word Toree, give me your money. — 
i Todd's Johnson. 

3 As he was carried to the gallows, Jack played a fine tune of his own 



102 THE EAPPAREES. 

Paddy Fleming, Dick Balp, and Mulhoni, I think are tlie 

next on my list, 
All adepts in the beautiful science of giving a pocket a twist ; 
Jemmy Carrick must follow his leaders, ould Purney who put 

in a huff. 
By dancing a hornpipe at Tyburn, and bothering the hangman 

for snuff. 

There's Paul Liddy, the curly-pate Tory, whose noddle was 

stuck on a spike, 
And Billy Delany, the " Songster "^ we never shall meet with 

his like; 



composing, on the bagpipe, which retains the nazne of Macpherson's tune 
to this day. — history of the lici^pparees. 

1 " Notwithstanding he was so great a rogue, Delany was a handsome 
portly man, extremely diverting in company, and could behave himself 
before gentlemen very agreeably. Se had a poUtical genius (not 
altogether surprising in so eminent a Tory), and would have made a great 
proficiency in learning if he had rightly apphed his time. He composed 
several songs, and put times to them; and by his skill in music gained the 
favour of some of the leading musicians in the country, who endeavoured 
to get ViiTTi reprieved." — 'H.istory of the 'Ba/p^rees. The particulars of 
the Songster^ s execution are singular: — "When he was brought into 
court to receive sentence of death, the judge told him that he was informed 



THE RAPPAREES. 193 

For his neck by a witch was anointed, and warranted safe by her 
chann, 
^ No hemp that was ever yet twisted bis wonderful tlu'ottle could 
harm. 



And lastly, there's Cahir na Cappul, the handiest rogue of 

them all, 
Who only need whisper a word, and your hv^iSe will trot out of 

his stall ; 



he should say ' tliat there was not a rope in Ireland sufficient to hang him.' 
'But,' says he, TU try if Kilkenny can't afford one strong enough to do 
your business; and if that will not do, you shall have another and 
another.' Then he ordered the sheriff to choose a rope, and Delany was 
ordered for execution the next day. The sheriff having notice of hia 
mother boasting that no rope could hang her son (and pursuant to the 
judge's desire), provided two ropes, but Delany broke them one after 
the other ! The sheriff was then in a rage, and went for three bed cords, 
which he plaitea three-fold together, and they did his business ! Yet th*" 
sheriff was afraid he was not dead; and in a passion, to make trial 
stabbed him with his sword in the soles of his feet, and at last cut the 
rope. After he was cut down, his body was carried into the court-house, 
where it remaiaed in the coffin for two days, standing up, till the judge 
and all the spectators were fully satisfied he was stiff and dead, and 
then permission was given to his friends to remove the corpse and bury 
it." — Sistory of the ^ajijparees. 



394- THE EAPPAREES. 

Your tit is not safe in your stable, though you or your groom 

should be near, 
And devil a bit in the paddock, if Cahie, gets hould of his ear. 

Then success to the Tories of Ireland, the generous, the gallant, 

the gay ! 
With them the best Bumpads^ of England are not to be named 

the same day ! ■! 

And were further proof wanting to show what precedence we 

take with our prigs, 
^Recollect that our robbers are Tories, while those of your 

country are Whigs ! 

1 Highwaymen, as contradistingiuslied from footpads 



M^ 




A ROMANY CHANT. 



195 



A ROMANY CnAK7', 



In a box2 of tiie Stone Jug-^ I was bom, 
Of a hempen widow^ the kid forlorn, 

I'ahe away. 
And my father, as I've heard say, 

I'aTce away. 
Was a merchant of capers' gay, 
"Who cut his last fling with great applause, 

^Nix my doll pals, faJce away. 

Who cut his last fling with great applause,^ 
To the tune of a "hearty choke with caper sauce." 

Fake away. 

1 Set to music by Mr. Eodwell. * Cell. 3 K"ewgat£ 

* A -woinan whose husband has been hanged. 5 ^ dancing-master. 

6 " Nothing, comrades j on, on," supposed to be addressed by a thief to 
Ms confederates. 

7 Thus Victor Hjigo, in "Le Dernier Jour d'un Condamne," mates an 
imprisoned felon sing : — 

*' Je le ferai danser une danse 
Oil U n'y a pas de plancher.** 

2 



196 A ROMANY CHANT. 

The knucks in quod^ did my schoolmen play, 

Fahe away. 
And put me up to the time of day; 
Until at last there was none so knowing, 

Nix my doll pals ^ fake away. 

Until at last there was none so knowing. 
No such sneaksman^ or buzgloaP going. 

Fahe away. 
Fogies'* and fawnies^ soon went their way, 

Fahe away. 
To the spout^ with the sneezers^ in grand array. 
No dummy hunter^ had forks^ so fly; 

Nix my doll pals ^ fahe away . 

No dummy hunter had forks so fly. 
No knuckler^^' so deftly could fake a cly," 

Fahe away. 

Thieves in prison. 2 Shoplifter. 3 Pickpocket. 

< Handkerchiefs. 5 Rings. 6 To the pawnbroker. 

7 Snuff-boxes. 8 Pickpocket. 

9 The two fore-fingers used in picking a pocket. 

10 Pickpocket. ** Pick a pocket. • 



A ROMANY CHANT. 197 

No slour'd hoxter^ my snipes^ could stay, 

Fahe away. 
None knap a reader^ like me in the lay. 
Soon then I momited in swell-street high. 

Nix my doll pah^ fake away. 

Soon then I mounted in swell-street high^ 
And sported my flashest toggery."* 

Fake awayy 
Pirmly resolved I would make my hay, 

Fake away. 
While Mercury's star shed a single ray ; 
And ne'er was there seen such a dashing prig,' 

Nix my doll palsy fake away* 

And ne'er was there seen such a dashing prig, 
With my strummel faked in the newest twig.^ 
Fake away. 

1 No inside coat-pocket, buttoned up. 

* Scissors. 3 Steal a pocket-book. 

4 Best made clotbes. « Thief. 

^ With my hair dressed in the first fashion. 



198 A EOMANY CHANT. 

Witli my fawnied famms/ and my onions gay,* 

Tahe away ; 
My thimble of ridge/ and my driz kemesa ;* 
All my togs were so niblike^ and splash. 

Nix my doll palls, fake away. 

AU my togs were so niblike and splash, 
Readily the queer screens I then could smash ;' 

Fake away. 
But my nuttiest lady one fine day, 

Fake away. 
To the beaks^ did her fancy man betray. 
And thus was I bowled out at last,^ 

Nix my doll pals, fake away. 

And thus was I bowled out at last. 
And into the jug for a lag was cast;* 

Fake away, 

1 "With several rings on my hands. 2 Seals. 

3 Gold watch. 4 Laced shirt. 

5 Gentlemanlike. 6 Easily then forged notes could I pass. 

^ Police. 8 Taken at length. 

9 Cast for Transportation.. 



A ROMANY CHANT. 199 

But I slipped my darbies^ one morn in May, 

Take away. 
And gave to the dubsman^ a holiday. 
And here I am, pals, merry and free, 
A regular rollickiag romany.^ 

Nix my doll pals, fake aioay. 

> Fetters. ^ Turnkev. 3 Gipsy. 



200 



OLIYEE, WHIDDLES I 



I. 

Oltver whiddles — the tattler old ! 
Telling wbat best had been left untold. 
Oliver ne'er was a friend of mine ; 
All gHms I bate that so brightly shine. 
Give me a night black as hell, and then 
See what I'U show to you, my merry men. 

II. 

Oliver whiddles ! — who cares — ^who cares, 

If down upon us he peers and stares ? 

Mind him who will, with his great white face. 

Boldly Vll ride by his glim to the chase • 

Give him a Kowlard, as loudly as ever 

Shout, as I show myself, " Stand and deliver 1" 




WILL DAVIES AND DICK TURPIN. 



201 



WILL DAYIES AND DICK TUEPIK 



Hodife mihi, eras tibi. — Saint Attgustin-. 



One night when mounted on my mare. 
To Bagshot Heath I did repair, 
And saw Will Davis hanging there. 
Upon the gibbet bleak and bare. 

With a nistijied, fustified, mustified air I 

11. 

Within his chains bold Will looked blue, 
Grone were his sword and snappers too. 
Which served their master weU and true ; 
Says I, "WiU Davies, how are you? 

With your rustified, fustijied, mustified air /" 



202 WILL DAVIES AND DICK TURPm. 

III. 
Says he, " Dick Turpin, here I be, 
Upon the gibbet as you see ; 
I take the matter easily ; 
You'll have your turn as well as me, 
With your whistle-me, pistol-me, cut-my -throat air /" 



Says I, " That's very true, my lad ; 
Meantime, with pistol and with prad, 
I'm quite contented as I am, 

And heed the gibbet not a d n ! 

With its rustified, fustij 



V. 

Eor never more shall Bagshot see 
A highwayman of such degree. 
Appearance, and gentility. 
As Will, who hangs upon the tree. 

With his rustified, fustified, mustified air ! 



2o: 



THE FOUE CAUTIONS. 



I. 

Pay attention to these cautions four. 
And tlirough life you will need little more, 
Should you dole out your days to threescore ; 
Beware of a pistol before ! 

Before! before! 
Beware of a pistol before ! 

II. 

And when backwards his ears are inclined, 
And his tail with his ham is combined, 
Caution two you will bear in your mind : — 
Beware of a prancer behind ! 

Behind! behind! 
Beware of a prancer behind ! 



204 THE FOUR CAUTIONS. 

III. 
Thirdly, when in the park you may ride, 
On your besjfc bit of blood, sir, astride. 
Chatting gay to your old friend's young bride : — 
Beware of a coach at the side ! 

At the side ! at the side ! 
Beware of a coach at the side ! 

IV. 

Lastly, whether in purple or grey, 
Canter, ranter, grave, solemn, or gay, 
Whate'er he may do or may say : — 
Beware of a priest every way ! 

Every way ! every way ! 
Beware of a priest every way ! 



205 



THE DOUBLE CROSS. 

BY A MEMBER OF THE P. C. 



I. 

Though all of us liave heard of crost fights, 
And certain gains, by certain lost fights ; 
I rather fancies that it's news, 
Ho^Y in a mill, both men should losej 
Tor vei-e the odds are thus made even. 
It plays the dickens with the steven •} 
Besides, against all rule they're sinning, 
Vere neither has no chance of Tinning. 

Ri, tol, lot, §-c* 

II. 

Two milling coves, each vide avake, 
Vere backed to fight for heavy stake ; 

* Money. 



206 THE DOUBLE CEOSS. 

But in the mean time, so it vos. 

Both, kids agreed to plai/ a cross ; 

Bold came eacli luffer^ to the scratchy 

To make it look a tigUish match ; 

They peeled^ in style, and bets were making, 

'Tvos six to four, but few were taking. 

Ei, tol, lol, Sj-c. 

III. 

Quite cautiously the mill began, 
For neither knew the other's plan ; 
Each cull^ completely in the darhy 
Of vot might be his neighbour's mark ; 
Resolved 'hi^ fibbiitg^ not to miad. 
Nor yet to pa^ him back in kind ; 
So on each other kept they tout^ 
And sparred a bit, and dodged about. 

^?, tol, lol, SfC. 

1 Man. 2 Stripped. 3 Fellow. 

^ A particular kind of pugilistic punishment. 
5 Kept each an eye upon the other. 



THE DOUBLE CROSS. 207 

IV. 

Vitli mawleys^ raised, Tom bent Ms back. 

As if to plant a heavy thwack : 

Tile Jem, vith neat left-handed stopper. 

Straight threatened Tommy with a topper. 

'Tis all my eye ! no claret flows, 

1^0 facers sound — no smashing blows. 

Five minutes pass, yet not a hit. 

How can it end, pals ? — Va^t^rribifer---..,^.---' 

' m, tol, loli 8fc. 

v. 

Each cove vos teazed, with double duty. 

To please his backers, -^^i play looty ;^ 

Yen, luckily for Jem, a teller 

Yos planted right upon his smeller ; 

Down dropped he, stunned ; ven time was called. 

Seconds in vain the <seco;?c?5 -bawled; 

The mill is o'er, the crosser crost. 

The loser's von, the vinner's lost ! 

Ri, tol, lot, ^'•c. 
* Hands. * Deceive them. 



208 



THE MODERN GREEK. 

(NOT TBANSIiATED i"EOM THE ROMAIC.) 



Come, gemmen, name, and make your game, 

See, round the ball is spinning. 
Black, red, or blue, the colours view, 
TJuy deux, cinque, 'tis beginning. 
Then make your game, 
The colour name, 
"While round the ball is spinning. 

This sleight of hand m^ fiat shall land. 

While covered by my bonnet,^ 
\ plant mj ball, an^ boldly call. 
Come make your game upon it ! 
Thus rat-a-tat ! 
I land my fiat ! 
'Tis black — not red — is wuming, 
1 Accomplice. 



THE MODERN GREEK. 209 

At gay roulette was never met 

A lance like mine for bleeding ! 
I'm ne'er atfavM, at nothing halt. 
All other legs preceding. 
To all awake, 
I never shake 
A mag^ unless I nip it. 

Blind-hoohey sees how well I squeeze 
The well-pached cards in shuffling. 
Ecarte, whist, I never missed, 

And nick the broads^ while ruffling. 
Mogul or loo. 
The same I do, 
I'm down to trumps as trippet \ 

French hazard ta'en, I nick the main. 

Was ne'er so prime a caster. 
No crahs for mv^, I'm fly, d'ye see ; 

The bank shall- change its master, 

1 A fartliing. 2 Cards. 

P 



210 THE MODERN GREEK. 

Seven quatre^ trois. 
The stakes are high ! 
Ten mains ! ten mains are mine, pals ! 

At Rouge et Noir, yon hellite^ choir 
I'll make no bones of stripping ; 
One glorious coup for me shall do^ 
While they may deal each pi]} in. 
Trente-un-apres 
Ne'er clogs my way ; 
The game — ^the game*s divine, pals. 

At billiards set I make my bet, 

I'll score and win the rub, pals ; 
I miss my cue, my hazard, too, 
But yet my foe I'll drub, pals. 
That cannon-twist, 
T ne'er had missed. 
Unless to suit my views, pals. 

To make all right, the match look tight, 
Tliis trick, you know, is done, pals ; 
' Qy. VZiYe.— Peiniee's I/EVIL. 



THE MODERN GREEK. 211 

But now be gay, I'll show my play — 
Hurrah ! the game is won, pals, 
No hand so fine. 
No wrist Kke mine, 
No odds I e'er refuse, pals. 

Then choose your game ; whate'er you name, 

To me alike all offers ; 
Chick-hazard, whist, whate'er you list, \ 

Keplenish quick your coffers. 

Thus, rat-a-tat ! ; 

1 land m^ flat ! 
To every purse I speak, pals. 

Cramped boxes 'ware, all's right and fair, 

Barred balls I bar when goaded ; 
The deuce an ace is out of place ! 
The deuce a die is loaded! 

Then make your game, 
Your coloui' name ; 
Success attend the Greek, pals. 

P 2 



212 



PLEDGE OF THE HIGHV*^AYMAN. 



Come, fill up a bumper to Eve's fairest daugMers, 

Who have lavished their smiles on the brave and the free ; 

Toast the sweethearts of Dudley, Hind, Wilmot, and Watees, 
Whate'e'r their attraction, whate'er their degree. 



Pledge ! pledi^e in a bumper, each kind-hearted maiden, 
Whose bright eyes were dimmed at the highwayman's fall ; 

Who stood by the gallows with sorrow o'erladen. 
Bemoaning the fate of the gallant Du-Val ! 

^ Four celebrated higfiwayuaen, all rejoicing m the honoiirable distinc- ' 

tion of captain. 



PLEDGE OP THE HIGHWAYMAN. 213 

III. 

Here's to each lovely lass chance of war may bring near one, 
Whom, with courtier -like manner, politely we stop ; 

And to whom, like the lover addressing his dear one. 
In terms of entreaty the question we pop. 

IV. 

How oft, in such case, rosy lips have proved sweeter 
Than the rosiest hook; — bright eyes saved a bright ring; 

While that one other kiss has brought off a repeater. 
And a bead as di favour — the favowite siimg. 

V. 

With our hearts ready rifled, each pocket we rifle, 
V/ith the pure flame of chivalry stirring our breasts ; 

Life's risk for our mistress's praise is a trifle ; 
And each purse as a trophy our homage attests. 

YI. 

Then toss off your glasses to all girls of spirit. 

Ne'er with names, or with number, your memories vex : 

Our toast, boys, embraces each woman of merit. 
And, for fear of omission, we'll drink the whole sex ! 



2U 



THE GAME OF HIGH TOBY. 



I. 

Now Oliver^ puts his black niglitcap on. 

And every star its glim^ is hiding, 
And forth to the heath is the scampsman^ gone, 

His matchless cherry-black^ prancer riding ; 
Merrily over the common he flies, 

Fast and free as the rush of rocket, 
His crape-covered vizard drawn over his eyes. 

His top by his side, and his pops^ in his pocket. 

CHORUS. 

T/ien who can name 

So merry a game. 

As the game of all games — high toby 



% 



I The moon. ^ Light. ^ Highwayman. 

4 "Cherry-coloured — black; there being black cherries as well as 
red." — Grose. 

^ Sword. ^ Pistols. 7 Highway-robberya 



I 



THE GAME OF HIGH TOBY. 215 

II. 

The traveller hears him, away ! away ! 

Over the wide wide heath he scurries ; 
He heeds not the thimderbolt siimmons to stay, 

But ever the faster and faster he hurries. 
But what daisy-cutter can match that black-tit ? 

He is caught — he must " stand and deliver ;" 
Then out with the dummy, ^ and off with the bit,^ 

Oh ! the game of high toby for ever ! 

CHORUS. 

Then who can name 

So merry a game. 

As the game of all games — high tohy ! 

in. 

Believe me there is not a game, my brave boys, 
To compare with the game of high toby ; 

No rapture can equal the tobyman's joys. 
To blue devils, blue plumbs^ give the go-by ! 

1 Pocket-book. 2 Money. 3 Bullets. 



216 THE GAME OF HIGH TOBY. 

And what if, at length, boys, he come to the crap !^ 
Even rack punch has some bitter in it, 

Tor the mare-with-three-legs,^ boys, I care not a rap, 
'Twill be over in less than a minute ! 

GHAUD CHORUS. 

Then hip, hurrah ! 
Ming care away I 
Hurrah for the game of high tody f 

1 The gallows. ' » Ditto. 



217 



THE SCAMPSMAK 



Quis yere rex ? — Sekeca. 

There is not a king, should you search the world round, 
So blithe as the king of the road to be found ; 
His pistol's his sceptre, his saddle his tJtirone, 
Whence he levies supplies, or enforces a loan. 

Derri/ down. 

To this monarch the highway presents a wide field. 
Where each passing subject a tribute must yield; 
His palace (the tavern !) receives him at night, 
Where sweet lips and sound liquor crown all with delight. 

The soldier and sailor, both robbers by trade. 
Full soon on the shelf, if disabled, are laid : 



218 THE SOAMPSMAN. 

The one gets a patch, and the other a peg, 
But, while luck lasts, the highwayman shakes a loose leg ! 

Berry down. 

Most fowls rise at dawn, but the owl wakes at e'en, 
And a jollier bird can there nowhere be seen; 
Like the owl, our snug scamp sman his snooze takes by day. 
And, when night draws her curtain, scuds after his prey ! 

Derry down. 

As the highwayman's life is the fullest of zest. 

So the highwayman's death is the briefest and best ; 

He dies not as other men die, by degrees 1 

But AT ONCE ! without wincing, and quite at his ease ! 

Berry dow^. 



219 



THE KNIGHT OF MALTA : 



A CANTERBURY TALE. 



Come list to me, and you shall have, without a hem or haw, sirs, 
A Canterbury pilgrimage, much better than old Chaucer's, 
'Tis of a hoax I once played off, upon that city clever. 
The memory of which, I hope, will stick to it for ever. 

With my coal black beard, and purple cloalc, 
jaclc-boots, and broad-brimmed castor, 

Rey-ho ! Jpr the knight of Malta ! 

1 This ballad describes pretty accurately tbe career of an extraordinary 
individual, who, in the lucid intervals of a half-crazed understanding, 
palmed himself off upon the good folk of Canterbury, ia the year 1832, as 
a eertaia " SiE William Peect Honetwood CoimTENAT, Knight 
OP Malta;" and contrived — for there was considerable "method 
in bis madness" — to support the deception during a long period. 
Imposture and credulity are of all ages; and the Courtenays of 



220 THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. 

To execute my purpose, in the first place you must know, sirs, 
My locks I let hang down my neck — my beard and whiskers 

grow, sirs; 
A purple cloak I next clapped on, a sword tagged to my side, 

sirs. 
And mounted on a charger black, I to the town did ride, sirs. 

With my coal-black beard, ^c. 

our own time are rivalled by the Tofts and Andres of tlie last 
century. 

The following account of the soi-cUsant SiB William Couhtenat is 
extracted from " An Essay on his Character, and Eeflections on his Trial," 
published at the theatre of his exploits : — " About Michaelmas last it was 
rumoured that an extraordinary man was staying at the E,ose Inn of this 
city (Canterbury), who passed under the name of Count Eothschild, but 
had been recently known in London by the name of Thompson ! This 
would have been sufficient to excite attention, had not other incidents 
materially added to the excitement. His costume and countenance 
denoted foreign extraction, while his language and conversation showed 
that he was well acquainted with almost every part of this kingdom. He 
was said to live with singular frugality, notwithstanding abundant samples 
of wealth, and professions of an almost unlimited command of money. 
He appeared to study retirement, if not concealment, although subsequent 
events have proved that society of every grade, beneath the middle class, 
is the element in which he most freely breathes. He often decked his 
person with a fine suit of Italian clothing, and sometimes with the moro 
gay and imposing costume of the Eastern nations, yet these foreign habits 
were for months scarcely visible beyond the limits of the um of his abode 



THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. 221 

Two pages \7ere there by my side, upon two little pouies, 

Decked out in scarlet uniform as spruce as macaronies ; 

Caparisoned my cliarger was, as grandly as his master. 

And o'er my long and curly locks I wore a broad-brimmed 

castor. 

With my coal-blacJc beard, Src. 

and the clitipel not far from it, in wMch he was accustomed to offer his 
Sabbath devotions. This place was the first to which he made a pubhc 
and frequent resort ; and though he did not always attempt to advance 
towards the uppermost seat in the synagogue, he attracted attention from 
the mere singularity of his appearance. 

" Such was the eccentric, incongruous individual who surprised our city 
by proposing himself as a third candidate for its representation, and who 
created an entertaining contest for the honour, long after the sitting 
candidates had composed themselves to the delightful vision of an un- 
expensive and tmopposed return. The notion of representing the city 
originated beyond all doubt in the fertile brain of the man himself. It 
would seem to have been almost as sudden a thought in his mind, as it 
was a sudden and surprising movement in the view of the city ; nor ha\« 
we been able to ascertain whether his sojourn at the Eose was the cause 
or the effect of his offering to advocate om- interests in parhament — 
whether he came to the city with that high-minded pm'pose, or subse- 
quently formed the notion, when he saw, or thought he saw, an opening 
for a stranger of enterprise like himself. 

* * * * * 

" As the county election drew on, we beheve between the nomination 
on Barham Dovnis and the voting in the cattle market of the city, the 
draught of a certain handbill was sent to a printer of this city, vpith a 



'222 THE KNIOHT OF MALTA. 

The people all flocked forth, amazed to see a niau so hairj. 
Oh ! such a sight had ne'er before been seen in Canterbury ! 
My flowing robe, my flowing beard, my horse with flowing mane, 

sirs! 
They stared — the days of chivalry they thought were come 

again, sirs ! 

Witk my coal-black heard, 8fc. 

request that he would publish it without delay. Our readers will not be 
surprised that he instantly declined the task ; but as we have obtained 
possession of the copy, and its publication can now do no injury to any 
one, we entertain them with a sight of this delectable sample of Courtenay 
prudence and politeness. 

" •' O yes ! O yes ! O yes ! I, Lord Viscount William Courtenay, of 
Powderham Castle, Devon, do hereby proclaim Sir Thomas Tylden, Sir 
Brook Brydges, Sir Edward Knatchbull, and Sir WUham Cosway, for 
cowards, unfit to represent, or to assist in returning members of parlia- 
ment to serve the brave men of Kent. 

" ' Percy Honeywood Courtenay, of Hales and Evington Place, Kent, 
and Knight of Malta. 

" ' Any gentleman desiring to know the reasons why Lord Courtenay 
so publicly exposes backbiters, any man of honour shall have satisfaction 
at his hands, and in a public way, according to the laws of our land — trial 
by combat; when the Almighty Godj the Lord of Hosts is his name, can 
decide the ' truth,' whether it is a libel or not. I worship truth as my 
God, and will die for it — and upon this we will see who is strongcLt, God 
or man.' 

*' It is a coincidence too curious to be overlooked, that this doughty 



THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. 223 

I told them a long rigmarole romance, tliat did not halt a 

Jot, that they beheld in me a real knight of Malta ! 

Tom a Becket had I sworn I was, that saint and martyr 

hallowed, 
I doubt not just as readily the bait they would have swallowed. 

With my coal-black heard, ^-c. 

cliampion of trttth should so soon haye removed himself from public life 
by an act of deliberate and wanton perjury. "We never read any of Ms 
rhapsodies, periodical or occasional, till the publication of tliis essay 
imposed the self-denying task upon us ; but now we find that they abound 
in strong and solemn appeals to the truth; in bold proclamations that 
truth is his palladium ; in evidences that he writes and raves, that he 
draws his sword and clenches his fist, that he expends his property and the 
property of others committed to his hands, in no cause but that of trutJi ! 
His famous periodical contains much vehement declamation in defence of 
certain doctrines of religion, which he terms the truth of the sublime 
system of Christianity, and for which alone he is content to live, and also 
willing to die. All who deviate from his standard of truth, whether 
theological or moral, philosophical or pohtical, he appears to consider as 
neither fit for Hfe or death. Now it is a httle strange, his warmest 
followers being witnesses, that such an advocate of truth should have 
become the willing victim of falsehood, the ready and eager martyr of the 
worst form of falsehood — perjury. 

" The decline of his influence between the city and county elections has 
been partly attributed, and not without reason, to the sudden change in 
his appearance from comparative youth to advancing, if not extreme age. 
On the hustings of the city he shone forth in all the dazzling lustre of an 



224 THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. 

I rode about, and speechified, and everybody gullied, 

The tavern-keepers diddled, and the magistracy bullied : 

Like puppets were the townsfolk led in that show they call a 

raree ; 
The Gotham sages were a joke to those of Canterbury. 

With my coal-black beard, ^c. 

Oriental cMef ^ and sucli was the effect of gay cloth.ing on the meridian of 
life, that his admirers, especially of the weaker sex, would insist upon it 
that he had not passed the beautiful spring-time of May. There were, 
indeed, some suspicious appearances of a near approach to forty, if not two 
or three years beyond it ; but these were fondly ascribed to his foreign 
travels in distant and insalubrious climes ; he had acquired his duskiness 
of complexion, and his strength of feature and violence of gesture, and 
his profusion of beard in Egypt and Syria, in exploring the catacombs 
of the one country, and bowing at the shrines of the other. On the 
other hand, the brilhancy of his eye, the melody of his voice, and 
the elasticity of his muscles and limbs, were sufficient arguments in 
favour of his having scarcely passed the limit that separates manhood 
from youth. 

"AU doubts on these points were removed, when the crowd of his fair 
admirers visited him at the retirement of his urn, in the intervals of his 
polling. These sm6 Tiosd interviews — we allude to the name of the ion, 
and not to anything like privacy there, which the very place and number 
of the visitors altogether precluded — convinced them that he was even a 
younger and livelier man than his rather boisterous behaviour in the hall 
woiJd allow them to hope. Infact,he was now installed by acclamation ^wzyAf 
of Canterhury as well as Malta, and King of Kent, as well as JertisaJetn^ 



THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. 225 

The theatre I next engaged, where I addressed the crowd, sirs, 
And on retrenchment and reform, I spouted long and loud, sirs ; 
On tithes, and on taxation,.! enlarged with skill and zeal, sirs. 
Who so able as a Malta knight, the malt-tax to repeal, sirs ? 

With my coal-black beard, ^c. 

As a candidate I then stepped forth to represent their city, 
And my non-election to that place was certainly a pity ; 
Tor surely I the fittest was, and very proper, very. 
To represent the wisdom and the wit of Canterbury. 

With my coal-black beard, Sfc. 

At the trial of some smugglers next, one thing I rather queer 

did. 
And the justices upon the bench I literally bearded ; 

It became dangero\is then to wMsper a syllable of suspicion against his wealth 
or rank, his wisdom or beauty; and all who would not bow down before this 
golden image were deemed worthy of no better fate than Shadrach, 
Meschech, and Abednego — to be cast into a burrung fiery furnace/' 



As a sequel to the foregoing story, it may be added, that the Knight of 
Malta became the inmate of a lunatic asylum ; and on his liberation was 
shot at the head of a band of Kentish hinds, whom he had deluded into 
the belief that he was the Messiah ' 



226 THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. 

For I swore that I some casks did see, though proved as clear as 

day, sirs, 
That I happened at the time to be some fifty miles away, sirs ! 

With my coal-black heard, 8fC. 

The last assertion, I must own, was somewhat of a blunder, 
And for perjury indicted they compelled me to knock under ; 
To my prosperous career this slight error put a stop, sirs. 
And thus crossed, the knight of Malta was at length obliged to 
hop, sirs ! 

With his coal-black beard, and purple cloak, 
jack-boots, and broad-brimmed castor. 

Good-bye to the knight of Malta ! 



227 



SAINT GILES'S BOWL.' 



I. 

Where Saint Giles's cliurch stands, once a lazar-house stood ; 
And, chained to its gates, was a vessel of wood ; 
A broad-bottomed bowl, from which all the fine fellows, 
Who passed by that spot on their way to the gallows, 

Might tipple strong beer 
Their spirits to cheery 
And drown in a sea of good liquor all fear ! 
Tor nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles, 
So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! 

' At the hospital of St. Giles for Lazars, the prisoners conveyed from 
the City of London towards Tybiirn, there to be executed for treasons, 
felonies, or other trespasses, were presented with a Bowl of Ale, thereof 
to drink, as their last refreshing in this life. — Strype's Stow. Book is. ch. iii. 

Q2 



228 SAINT Giles's bowl. 

n. 

By many a highwayman many a draught 

Of nutty-brown ale at Saint GEes's was quaft. 

Until the old lazar-house chanced to fall down, 

And the broad-bottom'd bowl was removed to the Crown, 

Where the robber may cheer 
His spirits with beer. 
And drown in a sea of good liquor all fear ! 
For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles. 
So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles ! 

II 

There Mulsack and Swiftneck, both prigs from their birth, " ' 
Old Mob and Tom Cox took their last draught on earth : 
There Randal, and Shobter, and Whitney pulled up. 
And jolly Jack Joyce drank his finishing cup ! 

For a can of ale 
A highwayman! s 
And makes him sing blithely his dolorous psalms ! 
For nofhing the transit to Tyburn beguiles. 
So well as a draught from the Bowl of St. Giles I 



II 



SAINT Giles's bowl. 229 

IV. 

When gallant Tom Sheppard to Tyburn was led, 
" Stop the cart at the Crown — stop a moment," he said ; 
He was offered the Bowl, but he left it and smiled, 
Crying " Keep it till called for by Jonathan Wild ! 

" TJie rascal one day 
Will pass hy this way. 
And drink a full measure to moisten his clay ! 
And never will Bowl of St. Giles have beguiled 
Such a thorough-paced scoundrel as Jonathan Wild !" 

V. 

Should it e'er be my lot to ride backwards that way, 
At the door of the Crown I will certainly stay ; 
I'll summon the landlord — ^I'll caU. for the Bowl, 
And drink a deep draught to the health of my soul ! 

Whatever may hap, 
Til taste of the tap, 
To keep up my spirits when brought to the crap ! 
For nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles, 
So well as a draught from the Bowl of St. Giles ! 



230 



THE NEWGATE STONE.* 



I. 

When Claude dtj Yal was in Newgate thrown. 
He carved his name on the dungeon stone ; 
Quoth a dubsman, who gazed on the shattered wall, 
" You have carved your epitaph, Claude du Yal, 

With your chisel sofinCy tra la /*' 



II. 

Du Yal was hanged, and the next who came 
On the selfsame stone inscribed his name ; 
" Aha !" quoth the dubsman, with devilish glee, 
" Tom Waters, your doom is the triple tree ! 

With your chisel sofine^ tra la /" 

* Set to music by Mr. G. Herbert Eodwell. ' 



1 



THE NEWGATE STONE. 231 

III. 

"Within that dungeon lay Captain Bew, 
RuMBOLD and Whitney — a jolly crew ! 
All carved their names on the stone, and all 
Share the fate of the brave Dtr Val ! 

With their chisel so fine, tra la ! 

IV. 

Full twenty highwaymen blithe and bold, 
Eattled their chains in that dungeon old : 
Of all that number there 'scaped not one 
Who carved his name on the Newgate Stone, 

With his chisel sofine^ tra la / 



232 



THE CARPENTEE^S DAUGHTER 



T. 

The carpenter's daughter was fair and free — 
Fair, and fickle, and false was slie ! 
She slighted the jonmeyman (meaning me !) 
And smiled on a gallant of high degree. 

Degree! degree! 
She smiled on a gallant of high degree. 

n. 

When years were gone by, she began to rue 
Her love for the gentleman (meaning i/ou /), 
" I slighted the journeyman fond," quoth she, 
"But where is my gallant of high degree ? 
Where? where? 
Oh 1 where is my gallant of high degree ?'* 



233 



OWEN WOOD. 



Once on a time, as I've heard tell, 
In VYych-street, Owen Wood did dwell; 
A carpenter lie was by trade. 
And money, I believe he made. 

With a foodie doo ! 

II. 

This carpenter he had a wife. 
The ceaseless torment of his life ; 
Who, though she did her husband scold. 
Loved well a woollen-draper bold. 

With a foodU fl^ ! 



234 OWEN WOOD. 

III. 
- Now Owen Wood had one fair child. 
Unlike her mother, meek and mild ; 
Her love the draper strove to gain. 
But she repaid him with disdain. 

With a foodie doo ! 

TV. 

In vain he fondly urged his suit. 
And, all in vain, the question put ; 
She answered, — " Mr. William Kneebone, 
Of me, sir, you shall never be bone.'* 

JFitk a foodie doo ! 

V. 

** Thames Darrell has my heart alone, 
A noble youth, e'en you must own : 
And, if from him my bve could stir. 
Jack Sheppard I should much prefer." 

With a foodie doo / 



2^S 



KING FEOG AND QUEEN CRANK 



Old King Trog, he swore begar ! 

Croakledom cree ! — croakledom croo ! 
That he with Queen Crane would go to war, 

Blusterem boo ! — thrusterem through ! 
With that, he summon' d his fiercest Frogs, 
With great cock'd hats, and with queues like logs. 
And says he, "Thrash these Cranes, you ugly dogs! 

Sing, Ventre-saint-gris ! — Parbleu !" 

To fight they went ; but alack ! full soon, 
Croakledom cree ! — croakledom croo ! 

Messieurs the Trogs they changed their tune. 
Of blusterem boo ! — thrusterem through ! 



236 KING FEOG AND QUEEN CRANE. 

For Queen Crane had a leader stout and strong, 
With a bill like a fire-spit, six feet long, 
And the Eroggies he gobbled up all day long, 
With their " Yentre-saint-gris ! — Parbleu I" 



237 



Mi^BLBEOOK TO THE WAES IS COMING. 



Maklbrook to the wars is coming ! 
I fancy I hear his drumming ; 
'Twill put an end to the mumming 

Of our priest-ridden Monarque ! 
For the moment he enters Manders, 
He'll scare all our brave commanders^ 
They'll fly like so many ganders, 

Bisturb'd by a mastiff's bark. 

He comes ; and at Schellenbeeg licks 'em. 
At Blenheim next, how he kicks 'em. 
And on Eamilies' plain how he sticks 'em 

With bay'net to the ground ! 
For,, says he, " Those saucy Mounseers, 
rn thoroughly — thoroughly trounce, sirs, 
As long as there's an ounce, sirs, 

Of powder to be found. 



238 MARLBROOK TO THE WARS IS COMING. 

Now he's gone home so jolly, 
And we're left melaacholy, 
Lamenting of our folly 

That such a part we took. 
For bitterly ha^ he drubb'd us, 
And cruelly has he snubb'd us, 
And against the grain has rubb'd us, 

This terrible Turk, Marlbrook. 

We hope he will never come back, sirs. 

Our generals to attack, sirs, 

And thrash them all in a crack, sirs. 

As he has done before. 
But in case Queen Anne should send him. 
We trust she'll kindly lend him 
Some Tories' to attend him. 

Then he'll return no more ! 

' It will be remembered that the Tories of those days were pretty nearly 
the Whigs of ours; and violently opposed to Marlborough, and the war 
with France. 



239 



THE BOOTS OF MAKLBROOK. 



Four marshals of France vow'd their monarch to guard, 
Bragging Boufflees, vain YillahSj Yilleegy, and Taxla-BD 
These fonr gasconaders in jest undertook 
To pull off the boots of the mighty Mablbrooe:. 

Brush — ^brush away ' 



The field was first taken by Bouffleiis and Villabs, 
But though they were the chaffers, yet we were the miUers ; 
Bonn, Limburgh, and Htjy, soon our general took, — 
'Twas not easy to pull off the boots of Mahlbeook. 

Brush — brush away ! 



240 THE BOOTS OP MARLBROOK. 

■ III. 

Tallaud next essayed with Bavaeia's Elector, 

But the latter turn'd out an indifferent protector ; 

For he Schellenberg lost, while at Blenheim both shook 

In their shoes, at the sight of the boots of Marlbrook, 

Brush — brush away ! 

To Ramilies next came the vaunting Yilleroy, 
In his own esteem equal to Hector of Troy ; 
But he found, like the rest, that his man he mistook — 
And ied at the sight of the boots of Marlbrook. 

Brush — ^brush away ! 



Then here's to the boots, made of stout English leather, 
WeU soled, and well heel'd, and right well put together ! 
He deserves not the name of a Briton, who'd brook 
A word 'gainst the fame of the boots of Marlbrook ! 

Brush — brush away ji 



THE BOOTS OF 3IAELBR00K. 241 

VI. . 

Of Gallia the dread, and of Europe the wonder, 

These boots, like their master, will never knock under ; 
We'll bequeath 'em oui- sons, and our sons' sons shall look 
With pride and delight on the boots of Mahlbrook. 

Brush — brush aM ay! 



242 



A YEAE AND A DAY. 



■ 



I. 
A Year and a Day is tlie period named 
When, according to Custom, the Plitch may be claimed; — 
Provided the parties can swear and can prove, 
They have lived the whole time in true conjugal love. 

II. 

'Tis a very old Custom of ours at Dunmow, — 

ritzwalter established it ages ago : 

Its antiquity, sure, can be doubted by no man. 

Since 'tis mentioned by Chaucer, and trusty Piers Plowman j 

III. 
That it is a good Custom, as well as an old. — 
Our custom of Dunmow — you needn't be told — • 
A prize matrimonial — claim it we may — 
Nell and I have been married a Year and a Day. 






i^T iSP^ 



f,->m 



y ^ .\ 




\<'^^0^^y% 






A YEAR AND A DAY. 

(Jonas and Nelly Nettlebed.) 



* A YEAR AND A DAY. 243 

IV. 

With all the conditions we've duly complied — 
And our iove and fidelity well fiave been tried : 
KneeHng down at the Chnrcu-door, we dare to confess 
That not e'en in thought, did we ever transgress. 

V. 

No woman, save Nell, has attractions for me ; 
And as I feel, I needn't assure you, feels she : 
No man in the world, be he ever so big. 
Can say Nelly cares for his nonsense a fig. 

"^« 

I'm a pattern to husbands, as she is to wives — 
We teach all transgressors to alter their lives. 
We show how much better it is to be true, 
Than each other neglect, as some married folks do. 

VII. 

In short, we're as happy as couple can be, — 
No long curtain lectures sweet Nell reads to me ; 
By no silly squabbles are we ever put out,f 
Nor do I ever scold, nor does she ever pout. 
R 2 



2i4 A YEAR A^D A BAY. 



As to wishing that we were unmarried ag:uii, — ■ 
A notion so stupid ne'er enter'd our brain : — 
Ear rather, — we give you our honour, — we would 
Be married twice over again, if we could ! 

IX. 

Three times did I marry the Elitch to obtain — 
Three times unsuccessful — ^the fourth time I gain : 
Blest with NeUy, sweet Nelly, they can't say me nay, 
We've not had a wrong word for a Year and a Day ! 



m 



245 



THE BALLAD OF THE BEAAB. 



I. 

In masculine beauty, or else I am wrong, 
Perfection consists in a beard tbat is long ; 
By man it is cherished, by woman revered, — 
Hence every good fellow is known by his beard. 

n. 

Barbarossa, and Blackbeard, and Bluebeard, we know, 
Let the hair on their chins most abundantly grow : 
So did Francis the First, and our Harry the bluff, 
And the great Bajpzet had beard more than enough. 

in. 
Now the faces of those bearded worthies compare 
With the faces of others divested of hair: 
A.nd you'll very soon see — ^if you've rot any eyes— 
On which side the superiority lies. 



24:6 THE BALLAD OF THE BEARD. 

IV. 

Then take to the Beaed, and have done with the razor ! 
Don't disfigure yourself any longer, I pray, sir ! 
Wear a Beard. You will find it becoming and pleasant. 
And your wife will admire you much more than at present. 

V. 

Of cuts weVe the Spanish, Italian, and Dutch, 

The old and the new, and the common o'ermuch; 

You may have your beartt trimm'd any way that you please. 

Curled, twisted, or stuck out like chevaux-de-frise. 

VI. 

You may wear, if you choose, a beard, pick-a-devant, 
A beard like a hammer, or jagg'd like a saw, — 
A beard called " cathedral," and shaped like a tUe, 
Which the widow in Hudibras served to beguile. 

VII. 

A beard Hke a dagger— nay, don't be afraid,— 
A beard like a bodkin, a beard like a spade; 
A beard like a sugar-loaf, beard like a fork, 
A beard like a Hebrew, a beard like a Turk. 



THE BALLAD OF THE BEARD. 247 

vin. 
Any one of these beards may be yours if you list — 

According to fancy you trim it or twist. 

As to colour, that matters, I ween, not a pin — 

But a bushy black beard is the surest to win. 

IX. 

So take to the Beakd, and abandon the razor ! 

Have done with all soaping and shaving, I say, sir ! 

By a scrub of a barber be never more sheared, sir ; 

But adorn cheek and chin with a handsome long beard, sir ! 



248 



OLD GRINDROD'S GHOST.^ 



I. 

Old Geindeod was hanged on a gibbet high, 
On the spot where the dark deed was done ; 

'Twas a desolate place, on the edge of a moor, — 
A place for the timid to shun. 

II. 
Chains round his middle, and chains round his neck, 

And chains round his ankles were hung : 
AvA there in all weathers, in sunshine and rain. 

Old Grindrod, the murderer, swung. 

1 Founded on an incident, related to me, with admirable humour, by 
my old and much-valued friend, Gilbert Wintek, late of Stocks, 
Manchester, 



I 



OLD GRINDROD'S GHOST. 249 

III, 

Old Grindrod tad long been the banquet of crows. 

Who flocked on his carcase to batten ; 
And the nnctuons morsels that fell from their feast 

Served the rank weeds beneath him to fatten ! 

IV. 

All that's now left of him is a skeleton grim. 

The stoutest to strike with dismay ; 
So ghastly the sight, that no urchin, at night. 

Who can help it, will pass by that way. 

V. 

All such as had dared, had sadly been scaral, 

And soon 'twas the general talk, 
That the wretch in his chains, each night took the pains, 

To come down from the gibbet — and walk I 

VI. 

Tlie story was told to a Traveller bold. 

At an inn, near the moor, by the Host ; 
He appeals to each guest, and its truth they attest. 

But the Traveller laughs at the Ghost. 



250 OLD geindeod's ghost. 

VII. 

" Now, to show you," quoth he, " how afraid I must be, 

A ramp and a dozen I'll lay ; 
That before it strikes One, I will go forth alone, 

Old Grindrod a visit to pay. 

VIII. 

" To the gibbet I'll go, and this I will do, 

As sure as I stand in my shoes ; 
Some address I'll devise, and if Grinny rephes. 

My wager, of course, I shall lose." 

IX. 

"Accepted the bet ; but the night it is wet," 

Quoth the Host. " Never mind 1" says the Guest ; 

" From darkness and rain, the adventure wUl gain. 
To my mind an additional zest." 

X. 

Now midnight had toll'd, and the Traveller bold 

Set out from the inn, aE alone ; 
'Twas a night black as ink, and our friend 'gan to think. 

That uncommonly cold it had grown. 



OLD GRINDROD's GHOST. 251 

XI. 

But of nothing afraid, and by notHng delayed; 

Plunging onward throngli bog and through wood ; 
yrind and rain in his face, he ne'er slackened his pace, 

Till under the gibbet he stood. 

xir. 

Though dark as could be, yet he thought he could see 

The skeleton hanging on high ; 
The gibbet it creaked; and the rusty chains squeaked; 

And a screech-owl flew solemnly by. 

xm. 
The heavy rain pattered, the hollow bones clattered, 

The Traveller's teeth chattered — with cold — not with fright; 
The wind it blew lustHy, piercingly, gustily; 

Certainly not an agreeable night I 

XIV. 

" Ho ! Grindrod, old fellow !" thus loudly did bellow, 
The Traveller mellow, — " How are ye, my blade ?" — 

"I'm cold and I'm dreary; I'm wet and I'm weary; 
But soon rn be near ye !" the Skeleton said. 



252 OLD grindrod's ghost. 

XV. 

The grisly bones rattled, and with the chains battled. 

The gibbet appallingly shook ; 
On the ground something stirr'd, but no more the man heard, - 

To his heels, on the instant, he took. 

XVI. 

Over moorland he dashed, and through quagmire he plashed 

His pace never daring to slack ; 
Till the hostel he neared, for greatly he feared 

Old Grindrod would leap on his back. 

XVII. 

His wager he lost, and a trifle it cost ; 

But that which annoyed him the most. 
Was to find out too late, that certain as fate. 

The Landlord had acted the Ghost. 



253 



THE BARBER OF RIPON AND THE GHOSTLY 
BASIK 

A TALE OF THE CHARNtL HOUSE. 



I. 

Since Ghost-Stories you want, there is one I can tell 

Of a wonderful thing that Bat Pigeon befel : 

A Barber, at Ripon, in Yorkshire was he. 

And as keen in his craft as his best blade could be. 

II. 
Now Bat had a fancy, — a strange one, you'll own, — 
Instead of a brass bowl to have one of bone : 
To the Charnel-house 'neath the old Minster he'd been. 
And there, 'mongst the relics, a treasure had seen. 



254: THE BARBER OF RIPON 

III. 

'Mid the pile of dry bones that encumber'd the ground, 
One pumpkin-like skull with a mazard he found ; 
If home that enormous old sconce he could take. 
What a capital basin for shaving 'twould make ! 

IV. 

Well ! he got it, at last, from the Sexton, his friend. 
Little dreaming how queerly the business would end : 
Next, he saw'd off the cranium close to the eyes ; 
And behold then ! a basin capacious in size. 

V. 

As the big bowl is balanced 'twixt finger and thumb, 
Bat's customers all with amazement are dumb ; 
At the strange yellow object they blink and they stare, 
But what it can be not a soul is aware ! 

VI. 

Bat Pigeon, as usual to rest went that night : 
But he soon started up in a terrible fright : 



AKD THE GHOSTLY BASIN. 255 

Lo ! giving the curtains and bedclotlies a pull, 
A Ghost he beheld — wanting half of its skull ! 

VII. 

"Unmannerly barber !" the Spectre exclaimed ; 
"To desecrate bonehouses art not ashamed ? 
Thy crown into shivers, base variet, I'll crack, 
Unless, on the instant, my own I get back ''* 

VIII. 

" There it lies on the table !" Bat qualdngly said ; 
" Sure a skull cannot matter when once one is dead."— 
" Such a skull as thine may not, thou addlepate fool ! 
But a shaver of clowns for a Knight is no rule !" 

IX. 

With this, the wroth Spectre its brainpan clapp'd on. 
And holding it fast, in a twinkling was gone ; 
But ere through the keyhole the Phantom could rush. 
Bat perceived it had taken the soap and the brush. 



256 THB BARBER OF RIVON, 

X. 

When the Sexton next mom went the Charnel-house round, 
The great Yellow SkulP in its old place he found : 
And 'twixt its lank jaws, while they grinningly ope. 
As in mockery stuck, are the Brush and the Soap ! 



1 This ghostly reKc may still be seen in the curious Charnel-house of 
Ripon Minster. The legend connected with it is devoutly believed by the 
Sexton, its narrat<>r. 



Craitslatioiis. 



25^ 



ELEGY 



CARDINAL CARLO BORROMEO.* 



With black funereal robe, and tresses shorn, 
O'erwhelmed with grief, sad Elegy appears ; 

And, by her side, sits Ecloga forlorn, 

Blotting each line she traces with her tears. 

'Twas night ! — ^long pondering on my secret woes. 
The third hour broke upon my vigH lone ; 

Ear from my breast had sorrow chased repoae, 
And fears presageful threatened iUs unknown. 

^ Freely translated from the Latin of the Admirable Crichton. 
s 3 



260 ELEGY ON THE CARDINAL CARLO BORROMEO. 

Slumber, at length, my heavy eyelids sealed ; 

The self-same terrors scared me as I slept : 
Portentous dreams events to come revealed, 

And o'er my couch fantastic visions swept. 



Upon the shoreless sea methought I sailed, 
No helmsman steered the melancholy bark ; 

Around its sides the pitying Nereids wailed 
Cleaving with snow-white arms the waters dark. 



Cydippe, dolphin-borne, Ephyra fair. 

And Xanthia leave their halcyon-haunted caves. 
With Doris and Cymodece to share 

The maddening strife of storm-awaken'd waves* 



Drawn unresisting, where the whirling gyre 
Vexes the deep, the ship her prow inclines ; 

While, like a pharos' gleam, the lightning's fire 
Over tlie raging vortex redly shines. 



ELEGY ON THE CARDINAL CARLO BORROMEO. 261 

Mix'd with the thunder's roar that shakes the skies, 

Notus and Africus and Boreas sound ; 
Black wreathing clouds, like shadowy legions, rise, 

Shrouding the sea in midnight gloom profound. 



Disabled, straining, by the tempest lashed, 

Reft of her storm-tried helmsman's guiding hand, 

The vessel sinks ! — amid the surges dashed. 
Vainly I struggle — ^vainly cry for land ! 

Alas ! stem truths with dreams illusive meet ! 

Latium the shipwreck of her hopes deplores ! 
The pious leader of the Insubrian fleet 

I mourn — a wandering Scot from Northern shores ! 



Weep ycuths ! weep aged men ! weep ! rend your hair ! 

Let your wHd plaints be on the breezes tost ! 
Weep virgins 1 matrons ! till your loud despair 

Outbrsves her children's wail for Iliou lost ! 



J 62 ELEGY ON THE CARDINAL CARLO BORROMEO. 

In that wreck'd bark the Ship of Christ behold ! 

In its lost chief the Cardinal divine. 
Of princely Lombard race ; ' whose worth untold 

Eclipsed the lofty honours of his Kne. 



His suffering countrymen to rule, sustain, 
By the All-wise was Borbomeo given ; 

And he, who stoop'd not dignity to gain,^ 
Derived his high investiture from heaven. 



' Saint Carlo Borromeo was born at Arona, near tlie Lago Maggiorc, 
the loveliest of Italian lakes, on tlie 2nd of October, 1538. His family 
was, and still continues to be, tbe most illustrious in Lombardy. It 
derives, however, its proudest distinction from its connexion with tie 
virtuous cardiaal and his exalted nephew Trederigo, whose sublime clia- 
racter has been of late so exquisitely portrayed by Manzoni. If ever 
man deserved canonization, it was the subject of this elegy, whose whole 
life was spent in practices of piety ; and whose zeal, munificence, wisdom, 
toleration, and beneficence, have conferred lasting benefits on his creed 
and country, 

2 He was made Cardinal and Archbishop in his twenty-third year by 
his uncle, Pius VI., who had resigned several rich livings to him twelve 
years before. — Eustace. Classical Tour through Italy. 



ELEGY ON THE CARDINAL CARLO BORROMEO. 263 

Bright as the sun o'er all pre-eminent, 
Or Cynthia glittering from her star-girt throne. 

The saintly Charles, on truths sublime intent. 
Amid the purple hierarchy shone. 

The Christian fleet, devoid of helm and sail,^ 
He mann'd and led where roughest billows roll ; 

And, though no more his virtues wide prevail. 
Their sacred influence spreads from pole to pole. 

His was the providence that all foresees, 
His, the trust placed, unchangeably, above; 

His, strict observance of his sires' decrees, 
Bapt adoration, and fear- chasten' d love. 

' Borromeo foTind. the diocese of Milan in tke most deplorable state of 
disorder. But with a vigorous and unsparing hand he reformed aU eccle- 
siastical abuses — " C'est ainsi," observes M, Tabauraud, the writer of his 
Life in the " Biog. Universelle," " que I'Eglise de MUan, tombee dans une 
espece d'anarchie depuis quatrevingts ans que ses archeveques n'y resi- 
daient pas, re^ut en peu d'annees cette forme admirable qui, par la vie 
toute angelique de son clerge, la rendit le modele de toutes les autres 
Eglises. Tant de reformes ne purent se faire sans de grands obstacles, 
qu'il surmonta par sa fermete, sa patience et son imperturbable charity." 



264 ELEGY ON THE CAKDINAL CARLO BORROMEO. 

The faith in practice, not profession, shown. 
Which borrows all its glory from on high 

"Was hisr: — nor did his holiness, alone. 
Consist in outward forms of sanctity. 

A willing ear unto the nobly-born. 
Nobler himself, he ne'er refused to yield; 

Nor, Jesus' meek disciple, did he scorn 

The humble prayer that to his heart appealed.^ 

No dearer recollection than his name 

Bequeathed us, can unite him with the earth : 

Nor can my praise add lustre to his fame — 
Proud heritage of unexampled worth !^ 



* So unbounded was Borromeo's cliarity, that he sold his principalitj of 
Oria, and distributed the proceeds amongst the poor. 

2 The private virtues of Saiat Charles, that is, the qualities which give 
true sterliag value to the man, and sanctify him to the eyes of his Creator 
— I mean humility, self-command, temperance, industry, prudence, and 
fortitude — ^were not inferior to his public endowments. His table was for 
his guests ; his own diet was confined to bread and vegetables ; he allowed 
himself no amusement or relaxation, alleging that the variety of his 



M 



ELEGY ON THE CAEDINAL CARLO BORROMEO. 265 

When, o'er his desolated city fell 

The livid plague's inexorable breath. 
Oft, in the lazzaretto's tainted cell, 

Eervent, he prayed beside the couch of death.^ 

As through the fane the pale procession swept,^ 

Before its shrine he bent in loTvliest wise 
Imploring heaven, in mercy, to accept 

His hfe, for them, a willing sacrifice. 



duties was in itself a sxifficient recreation. 'His dress and estabhshment 
were such as became his rank, but in private he dispensed with the 
attendance of servants, and wore an under dress, coarse and common; 
his bed was of straw ; his repose short ; and in all the details of hfe 
he manifested an utter contempt of personal ease and indulgence. 
— ^Eustace. 

^ During a destructive pestilence he erected a lazzaretto, and served 
the forsaten victims with his own hands. — Eustace. 

2 The incidents described ia this and the following stanza do not occur 
in the original. As, however, they appear necessary to complete the 
picture of the holy Primate's career presented by the poem, I have 
ventured upon their introduction. These actions, as well as his heroic 
devotion to the plague-stricken in the lazzaretto, mentioned in the pre- 
ceding verse, form subjects for part of the eight magnificent sUver bas- 
reliefs which adorn the vaulted roof of the gorgeous subterranean chapel 
in the Duomo at Milan, where the body of the Saint reposes enshrined 



26 Q ELEGY ON THE CARDINAL CARLO BORROMEO. 

When from the assassin's arm the bullet sped, 
He blench'd not, nor his deep devotions stopt ; 

"Be not dismaAfd in heart /'* — the anthem said, 
lie rose — ^the bullet from his vestment dropt !^ 

Not in the prism more varied hues reside, 

Than bright examples in his course are traced : — 

Alas ! his longer sojourn here denied, 

His guiding star is from its sphere effaced. 

amid "barbaric pearl and gold." During the period of the plague, 
Borromeo was indefatigable in his exertions to arrest the terrible calamity. 
" Cherchant," says M. Tabauraud, " a desarmer la colere du ciel par des 
processions generales, auxqueUes il assistait nu-pieds, la corde au cou, les 
yeux fixes sur son crucifix, qu'il arrosait de ses larmes, en s'offrcmt a Dieu 
comme tme victime de propitiation jpotir les jpeeJies de sonpeupleT 

1 The ecclesiastical reformation effected by Saint Charles met, as was 
natural, with considerable opposition on the part of the corrupt and 
disorderly priesthood, and he became the object of their bitterest animo- 
sity. " Les plus opposes a la reforme," writes M. Tabauraud ; " suscite- 
rent un frfere Farina, qui se posta a I'entree de la chapeUe archiepiscopale 
ou le Saint Prelat faisait sa priere avec toute sa maison ; et, au moment 
ou Ton chantait cette antienne ; Non turhetur cor vestrum nequeformi- 
det, I'assassin, eloigne seulement de cinq ou six pas, tire un coup d'arque- 
buse s\ir Saint Charles, a genoux devant I'autel. A ce bruit, le chant 
cesse, la consternation est generale ; le Saint, sans s'emouvoir, fait signe 
de continuer la priere : il se croyait cependant bless^ morteUement, et 
ofTrait a Dieu le sacrifice de sa vie. La priere Jinie, il se releve, et voit 



i 



ELEGY ON THE CARDINAL CARLO BORROMEO. 267. 

Alas ! life's ebbing tide no hindrance knows ! 

With man is nothing certain but to die ! 
Mortality, alone, presents a close 

Immutable, 'mid mutability. 

As, in some stream remote, the swan expires. 
Breathing, unheard, her fate-foreboding strain, 

So the declining Cardinal retires 
To steep Varalla's solitary fane.'^ 



tomher a ses pieds la ialle qyHon lui avait tiree dans le dos, et quinCavait 

fait qu'effieurer son rochet." — BiOG. Univeeselle. The holy primate 
endeavoured, ineffectually, to preserve Farina and the instigators of his 

i crime from, merited punishment. They were put to death, and Pius VI. 
dissolved the order {Gli Umili) to which they belonged. 

1 The Monastery of Monte Yaralla is situated in the Piedmontese 
states, near the banks of the Sesia. Thither Saint Charles retired imme- 

I diately previous to his dissolution, attended only by his confessor, the 
Jesuit Adomo, — and returned thence to Milan in a dying state. " Fran- 

j eiscum^ Adornum Societatis Jesu pliirimi fecit qui cum in extremo vitae 
curriculo per dies plxmmos, quo tempore in Monte Varallo meditationibus 
se totum tradiderat Caeolfs ab ejus latere nimquam discesserit." — 
Caroli Cardin. Borromoei Vita — Valeria. A]srTOiNE Godeait, Bishop 
of Grasse, who has written the life of the illustrious Primate, gives the 
following particulars of his melancholy visit to the Monastery : — " Encore 
(|ue toute la vie de Saint Chaeles fust une retraite mentale, toutefois 
il avait accoutume d'en faire une locale tous les ans en quelque monastfere 



■2Q8 ELEGY ON THE CARDINAL CARLO BORROMEO. 

Like the fair flower that springs from winter's crust, 
Lombards ! your Primate bursts his earthly chains : 

And, in his Father's mansion with the Just, 
A portion and inheritance obtains.^ 

Within his chosen tomb calm may he sleep I^ 

Beatified, aloft, his spirit soars ! 
While Virtue's loss irreparable, deep. 

With reverential grief the Muse deplores. 



^cart^, ou il employoit quelques jours pour faire une revne severe de sa vie, 
et pour prendre un nouvel esprit de zele et de piete. Avant que de s'en 
retourner a Milan, il voulut passer au Mont Varalle, dont nous avons 
parle, et y faire ses exercices." — Vie de S. C7i. Borromee. lAv. II. Ch. 
dernier. M. Mellin, in his " Voyage dans le Milanais," describiag the 
mountain oratory of Varese, observes : " On va de la a Varalle, oh. les 
Histoires de I'Ancien et du Nouveau-Testament sont figurees dans cin- 
quante-deux chapelles." 

1 The earthly pilgrimage of Saint Charles terminated on the 4th of 
November, 1584, at the age of forty-six years. He was canonized by 
Paul v., in 1610. 

2 " Cupiens hoc loco sibi monumentum vivens elegit." — Mpitaph in- 
scribed, hy his own desire, upon Borromeo's tomb. 



TO GASPAR YISCONTL* 

(OONGRATULATOEY ADDRESS.) 



When her fair land with grief o'erspread, 
Insubria mourn'd her Primate dead; 
TYhen Boreomeo to the tomb 
Was borne 'mid all-pervading gloom ; 
When dimm'd with tears was every eye. 
When breathed one universal sigh 
The sorrowing lyre for liim who slept, 
I first — a Scottish minstrel — swept. 

The night is pass'd, and dawn awakes, 
Bright Cynthius through the vapour brealcs, 

'Freely translated from tlie Latin of the Admirable Crichton. 



270 TO GASPAR VISCONTI, 

And Lucifer, with cheering beams, 
Trom out his golden axle gleams. 
Where late upon the raging sea 
The wild winds rush'd tumultuously ; 
And the frail bark by surges tost. 
Her tempest-braving helmsman lost, 
Her timbers strain' d, her canvass riven. 
Wide o'er the weltering waste was driven ; 
While her pale crew, with fear aghast. 
Gazed (as they deem'd) on heaven their last ! 
With shrieks their hapless fate bewailing ! 
With prayers the threatening skies assailing ! 

A change is wrought ! — hushed are the gales, 

A soft and summer calm prevails; 
And the glad ship in safety glides 
Over the gently-rolling tides. 
In troops o'er ocean's broad expanse 
Day's rosy harbingers advance ; 
Bland Eolus careers the wave, 
Tierce Notus hurries to his cave ; 
Young Titan from the waters springs, 



TO GASPAE VISCONTI. 271 

With new-bom lustre on his wings ; 
And over all things shines that sun. 
Whose light a thousand vows have won, 

16 1 with shouts the deck resound ! 
16 ! another chief is found ! 
Another. leader hath been sent 
To rule the Christian armament ; 
Whose firmness and undaunted zeal 
Ensure uninterrupted weal : 
Whose voice the Homan Rota sway'd, 
Whose laws that synod sage obey'd ; 
Whose hand wiU guide with equal ease, 
Hehgiou's bark through stormy seas : 
Whose power iu exhortation shown, 
Whose wisdom I myseK have known ; 
When by his eloquence subdued, 
In admiration lost, I stood. 
Rejoice thrice-happy Lombardy ! 
That such a chief is given to tliee ! 
A chief so free from aught of sin. 



272 TO GASPAR VISCONTI. 

Yirtue might be liis origin : 

Whose heavenly purpose, onward-tendinsj, 

Whose resolution calm, unbending. 

Shall lead thee through the shades of night 

To realms of everlasting light. 

Haste Milanese ! your Primate greet ! 
Prelates ! your leader fly to meet ! 
Run maidens ! youths ! let each one bring 
Some gift, some worthy offering ! 
Surrounding nations hail your choice. 
Surrounding nations loud rejoice ! 
Like him, whom ye have lost, was none 
Save hiTTi your choice has fall'n upon ^ 

A father fond, a ruler wise, 
Gaspae, in thee, we recognise : 
Thy name, Yisconti, seems to be 
An earnest of prosperity. 
To us thou art in our distress^ 
As manna in the wilderness. 



273 

TO GASPAR VISCONTI. 

Inhospitable Caucasus, 

Sarmatian Boreas rigorous, 

Seize on the caitiff, who denies 

Thy all-acknowledg'd charities ! 

A glory art thou, and a star, 

A light, a pharos seen afar ! 

And, clothed with majesty divine, 

Shalt prove the pillar of thy line. 

High rectitude and prescience 

Are thine, and wide beneficence : 

A Numa m thy sanctity, 

A Cato in thy gravity, 

Augustus in nobOity. 

Hence the High Pontiff Gregory,^ 

Who holds of Paradise the key, 

For thee earth's chains hath cast aside, 

Tor thee heaven's gate hath opened wide ; 

Milan's white robe hath round thee spread, 

Her mitre placed upon thy head. 

* Gregory XTTT., the Pope by whom Gaspar Visconti was appointed 
to the Archiepiscopal see of Milan. 



274 TO CASPAR VISCONTI. 

In thy blest advent all men see 

Of peace a certain augury ; 

AH tongues are clamorous in thy praise. 

All prayers are for thy length of days. 

Amid the crowd, I, Crichton, bom 

On Caledonian shores forlorn. 

Not all unknown, congratulate 

Thee, Gaspar, on thine honour' d state. 

Perpetual happiness be thine ! 

Thy bright, approving smile be mme : 

Nor let thy taste, severe, disdain. 

Primate, this welcome-breathing strain. 



%\t Cflinkt of i\t C|h% 

FKOM A BRETON LAY OF THE FOURTEENTH 
CENTURY. 



t2 



INTRODUCTION. 



The authenticity of the Combat of the Thirty, beyond doubt the 
most remarkable episode of the civil wars that desolated Brittany 
during the fourteenth century, was long disputed by both French 
and English historians, who seemed to regard the engagement as 
apocryphal. Yet there was no just reason for such doubts. The 
question, however, has been finally set at rest by the discovery 
of the ancient and almost contemporary Ballad, of which I have 
attempted the following version ; and by the recovery of a miss- 
ing chapter of Troissart, supplying details of the affair. The 
manuscript of the old Ballad was found in the Biblioth^que du 
Roi, by MM. de Freminville and Penhouet, the former of whom 
published an incorrect edition of it at Brest in 1819. A second 
and beautifully-printed edition, which left nothing to desire on 



278 INTRODTJCTIOK. 

the score of accuracy — the proofs having been collated word for 
word with the original manuscript by M. Meon — was brought 
out in 1827, by M. Crapelet, under the auspices of the Comte de 
Corbiere, Minister of the Interior. More recently, the zeal and 
antiquarian learning of M. Pitre Chevalier, the author of " Ancient 
and Modern Brittany," have been devoted to the illustration of 
this curious historical poem, which he is willing to regard as the 
testimony of an almost eye-witness of the conflict, while he even 
ranks it above the newly-restored chapter of Froissart, as more 
" simple and characteristic, more complete and impartial.'* In- 
deed, with an enthusiasm excusable in a " Breton de la Bretagne 
bretonnante," he terms it a " tresor sans prix.** 

The new chapter of Froissart, to which I shall now advert, 
was discovered amongst the manuscript collections of the Prince 
de Soubise, and was published, in 1824, by the finder, M. Buchon, 
in his Chroniques nationales et etrangeres. As this very interest- 
'mg historical morceau has not, that I am aware, been included 
in any English edition of the old chronicler, or ever been trans- 
lated into our language, I propose to give it entire. 



INTBODUCriON. 27^ 

How Messire Robert de Beaumanoir went forth to defy the Captain 
of Ploermel, hy name Brandehourg ; and how he had a rude 
battle of Thirty against Thirty. 

About this time, there occurred in Brittany a marvellous great 
feat of arms, which deserves to be had in remembrance, and to 
be held up as an encouragement and example to all bachelors. 
And to the end that you may the better understand it, you must 
know that there were continual wars in Brittany between the 
adherents of two noble dames,^ in consequence whereof Messire 
Charles de Blois was made prisoner. Now the war was con- 
ducted by the adherents of the two dames by means of garrisons, 
which they maintained in castles and strong towns on either side. 
It chanced, one day, that Messire Robert de Beaumanoir, a 

^ " The Countess, at that time widow of Jean de Montfort, and Jeanne 
de Penthievre, wife of Charles de Blois, who had been made prisoner at 
the battle of Koche-Derrien. These two heroines placed themselves at 
the head of their husbands' partisans, in defence of their respective rights. 
The war of succession of Jean III. lasted more than twenty years. Begur 
in 1341, it was only ended in 1364, by the Battle of Auray, at whicl". 
Charles de Blois was killed by an English soldier, after performing 
prodigies of valour." — Note in the JEdition of the " Combat des Trente," 
puLIisJicd in 1827. 



280 INTEOBUCTIOir 

valiant knight, and of the highest lineage in Brittany, and who 
was, moreover, governor of a castle called Castle Josselin, and 
had with him great store of men-at-arms of his kin, and other 
mercenaries, went forth to the town and castle of Ploermel, the 
captain whereof was named Brandebourg, and had with him 
great store of German mercenaries. Englishmen, and Bretons, 
and belonged to the party of the Countess of Montfort. Now 
the afore-mentioned Messire Robert and his men rode nigh unto 
the barriers, and would fain have seen some one come forth to 
them. But no one issued out. 

When Messire Robert beheld this, he drew yet nearer, and 
commanded the captain to be called. Hereupon, the captain 
cme forth to speak with Messire Robert, assurances of safe- 
guard being given on either side. Then, said Messire Robert, 
"Brandebourg, have you no men-at-arms within, yourself or 
others, some two or three of you, who would like to joust witli 
spear and sword against three others for love of their friends ?" 
Brandebourg made answer and said: "My friends do not desire 
to be slain ingloriously in a single joust, for that would be a 
trial of fortune without result, and we should gain rather the 
name of rashness and folly than reap renown, honour, and re- 



INTEODTJCTIOir. 281 

ward. But I will tell you what we will do, an you list. You 
shall take from your garrison twenty or thirty of your fellowship, 
and I will take the like number from mine. Then let us repair 
to an open plain, where none can hinder or disturb us, and give 
orders, on pain of the halter, to our companions on either side, as 
well as to all beholders, that they shall not render aid or comfort 
to any combatant. This done, we will make proof of our 
prowess, and so do that they shall speak of us hereafter in 
halls, palaces, and other places throughout the world. And may 
fortune and honour befal those for whom God hath destined them." 

"By my fay," said Messire Robert de Beaumanoir, ^'you 
speak bravely. I agree. Therefore, be you thirty, and we will 
be thirty likewise; for thus I promise it on my knightly faith." 

" Thus also do I promise it," answered Brandebourg, " for by 
this means more honour will be acquired, and maintained, than 
by a joust." 

Thus was the affair plighted and settled. The day was fixed 
for the Wednesday then after, being the fourth day from the 
defiance. In the interval, each chose his thirty men, as seemed 
good to him, and all the sixty provided themselves with arms 
fitted for the occasion. 



282 INTEODUCTIOH". 

When the day was come, the thirty companions of Brande- 
bourg heard mass, after which they armed themselves, and 
repaired to the spot where the battle was to take place. Dis- 
mounting from their horses, they forbade all such as wei e there 
to interfere in case mischance befel them or their companions ; 
and thus likewise did the companions of the Baron de Beaumanoir. 
Kow these thirty companions, whom we shall call Englishmen, 
had tarried long for the others, whom we shall style frenchmen. 
When the thirty Frenchmen were come, they dismounted, and 
gave the orders to their companions, as before related. Some 
say that five of their number remained at the entrance of the 
place of combat, while twenty-five dismounted, as the English 
had done. When tlie sixty were drawn up in front of each 
other, they parleyed together for a short time, Snd then retired 
on either hand, and made all those who were looking on with* 
draw to a distance. Then one of them gave the signal, and they 
rushed together at once, fighting stoutly in a heap, and gene- 
rously rescuing one another when they saw their companions in 
danger. 

Soon after they came together thus, one of the Frenchmen was 
killed, but this did not prevent the others from fighting, but the 
combat was maintained right valiantly on both sides, as if they 



nrTEODUCTioN". 283 

had been so many Rolands and Olivers. 1 cannot say for truth 
" if these or those did best," neither can I fairly place one above 
the other ; but all fought so long that they completely lost 
strength and breath. Being compelled to stop and repose them- 
selves awhile, a truce was proclaimed, which was to last until 
they had rested sufficiently, when the first who should arise was 
to summon the others. There were found dead four Frenchmen 
and two Englishmen. They rested for a long time on either 
side, and such as could obtain it drank wine, which was brought 
them in bottles, then braced up their battered armour, and dressed 
their wounds. 

When they were thus refreshed, the first who arose gave the 
signal, and recalled the others. Then began again the combat 
as furiously as before, and it lasted for a long while. The com- 
batants had swords from Bordeaux, short and stiff, pikes and 
daggers, and some had axes, wherewith they gave each other 
marvellously great blows. And some grappled with their foes in 
the strife, and smote them and spared them not. You may well 
believe that amongst them there was many a fine feat of arms ; 
set as they were man to man, body to body, hand to hand. Not 
for a hundred years has been heard of the like. 

Thus they fought like good champions, and very valiantly 



284 INTEODTICTION. 

maintained this second attack. But in the end the English 
had the worst of it. For, as I have heard tell, one of the 
Frenchmen, who remained on horseback, broke their ranks and 
trampled them under foot without difficulty, so that Brandebourg, 
their captain, and eight of his companions, were then slain ; and 
the others, seeing that they could neither defend them nor lend 
them aid, surrendered themselves prisoners, for they could not, 
and would not fly. And the aforesaid Messire Robert, and such 
of his fellowship as were left alive, took them and conducted them 
to Josselin Castle as their prisoners, and afterwards allowed them 
ransom courteously, when their hurts were healed, for there was 
not one amongst them, French or English, who was not 
grievously wounded. Sithence, I saw, seated at the table of 
Charles, King of France,^ a Breton knight, who had been 
present at the conflict, Messire Yervains (Yves) Charruel; his 
visage was so gashed and hacked that it showed plainly enough 
that the affair had been well fought. There also I saw Messire 
Enguerrant Duedins, a good knight of Picardy, who gave like 
proof that he had been at the fight ; and another esquire, named 
Hues de Raincevaus. So this action came to be much talked 
1 Charles V., surnamed the Wise, who ascended the throne in 1364, 



I 



INTEODUCTION". 285 

about. Bj some it was looked upou as of little account, by 
others as a marvellous feat, and of great hardihood. 



Eroissart's account of the combat, as will be seen, corresponds 
in a great measure with the description of the engagement given 
in the ballad ; but the old chronicler says that the day appointed 
was the Wednesday after the defiance, whereas the writer of the 
lay fixes it, with great precision, upon Saturday, the vigil of 
Sunday, Lcetare Jerusalem. Troissart also makes no mention of 
the most noticeable incident in the combat ; namely, the stern 
rebuke administered by Geoffroy du Bois to the Breton leader, 
when the latter, athirst and bleeding, cried out for drink — 
" Drink thy own blood, Beaumanoir, thy thirst will pass away." 
The old chronicler's description of Yves Charruel's slashed 
visage is very striking; but the names of Enguerrant Duedins 
and Hues de Raincevaus do not appear in the list of combatants 
given by other historians. 

Mr. Weld, in his pleasant Vacation in Britfan^j says that, 
" according to tradition, Beaumanoir, though severely wounded 
and wearied, slew no less than five Englishmen with his own 
taads." But this wondrous display of prowess on the part of 



286 INTEODTJCTIOK. 

the Baron is not supported by more authentic narratives of the 
fight. On the contrary, the real hero of the day on the Breton 
side, though the palm of valour was adjudged to the Sire de 
Tint^niac, was Guillaume de Montauban. But for Montauban*s 
device, the English, under the guidance of Croquart, would un- 
questionably have come off the victors. This stout German 
mercenary, the winner of the prize of valour on the English side, 
was taken with the other prisoners to Josselin, and subsequently 
released. Froissart devotes a chapter to him (chap, cxlviii.), 
and thus winds up his history : " King John of France made 
him the offer of knighting him, and marrying him very richly, if 
he would quit the English party, and promised to give him two 
thousand livres a year ; but Croquart would neVier listen to it. It 
chanced one day, as he was riding a young hoi?se, which be had 
just purchased for three hundred crowns, and was putting him 
to his full speed, that the horse ran away witb him, and, in leap- 
ing a ditch, stumbled into it, and broke his masiter's neck. 
Such was the end of Croquart." 

Of the chivalrous Marshal de Beaumanoir, the friend and com- 
pardon'at>arms of the renowned Bertrand du Guesclin, the cha- 
racter is thus summed up by a French writei? : " In his long 



INTEODTTCTIOlr. 287 

career, illustrated by important embassies and difficult commands, 
he was ever remarkable for loyalty and courage ; but his first title 
to glory is having been the leader of the Bretons at the Combat 
of the Thirty." 

Concerning the English leader, Sir Robert Bembrough (Bem- 
bro, or Brandebourg, as he is indifferently styled), nothing can 
be discovered ; except that at the death of the brave Sir Thomas 
d'Agworth ("the English Achilles," as M. Pitre Chevalier terms 
him, " who covered himself with glory, by resisting with a hand- 
ful of men the whole army of Charles de Blois"), he was ap- 
pointed by Montford and Edward III. to the command of the 
garrison at Ploermel, where he practised great cruelties upon the 
unfortunate Bretons. 

As it cannot fail to interest the reader, I will now cite the 
very accurate description of the locality of the memorable com- 
bat given by M. Pitre Chevalier in his Bretagne Ancienne H 
Moderne : " The traveller, proceeding from Ploermel to Josselin, 
after quitting the smiling environs of the first-named town, enters 
upon an arid and vast moor, without verdure and without trees, 
covered with the wild heath of Armorica, which hardly sparkles 
beneath the brightest rays of the sun. In the centre of this 



288 INTEODUCTION. 

moor, equidistant from the two towns, formerly stood the 
venerable oak that shaded the champions of Mi-Voie. Towards 
the end of the sixteenth century, this old witness of the combat 
of gianl;s was thrown to the earth by the axe of the League. 
Soon afterwards a stone cross replaced the oak. E-eared close 
by the roadside, it enjoined the passer-by to bare his head and 
pray. The cross was thrown down, firstly, in 1775 ; but at the 
request of M. Martin d'Aumont, the States of Brittany restored 
it, and engraved upon its base the following inscription, re- 
ported by Ogee :— 

A LA Memoire Peepetuelle 

DE LA. BaTAILLE DES TeENTE, QUE MONSEIGNEUE LE MaRECHAL 

DE BeATJMANOIE A GAGNEE EN CE LIEU 

LE XXVII. MAES, l'aN MCCCL. 

"The Ee volution of 1793, not less brutal than the League, 
sought to destroy the remembrance of the Thirty with the mark 
whereby it was preserved. But the memorial was gloriously 
revived, while the Revolution itself perished. 

" In 1811, the council of the arrondissement of Ploermel de- 
pianded that a grant of 600 fr. should be dedicated to the 



INTEODTJCTION". 289 

erection of a monument in honour of the combatants of Mi- 
Voie. The council- general of Morbihan applauded the idea, and 
voted for the same object the sum of 2400 fr. On the 11th of 
July, 1819, the first stone was laid by the Comte de Coutard, 
lieutenant-general, commander of the thirteenth military division, 
by M. de Chazelles, Baron de Lunac, prefect of Morbihan, and 
by M. Pitou, chief engineer of the corps of Sappers and Miners. 
The benediction was pronounced by M. de Bausset Roquefort, 
Bishop of Yannes. 

" This monument, which all may now see, is an obelisk fifteen 
metres high, one metre and sixty centimetres wide at the base* 
and one metre wide at the top. Composed of layers of 
granite, it occupies the centre of a plantation of pines and cy- 
presses, the highest of which does not exceed a hundred and 
forty metres. 

*' On the eastern front rnay be read these words : 

SOTJS LE EEGNE DE LOTJIS XVIII., 
EOI DE EraIJCE ET DE NaVAREE, 

LE CoNSEiL General du Depaetement du Morbihan a 
ELEVE ce Monument a la gloire des xxx. Bretons. 



290 INTEODTJCTION-. 

"The west front bears the same inscription in the Celtic 
language. On the south are engraved the names of the com- 
batants ; on the north the date of the combat, March 27th, 1351. 
Near the monument is placed the stone restored in 1775 by the 
States of Brittany. Voila tout" 

M. Pitre Chevalier then proceeds to broach tlie notion of what 
he deems would constitute a fitting monument to the Thirty, and 
it must be owned that the conception is not devoid of grandeur. 
"In place of this needle of stone, which resembles everything 
and signifies nothing, dare to realise the dream of a Breton 
pilgrim. Take from the bowels of the 'land of granite' thirty 
gigantic blocks, such as are to be found at Carnac or at Lok- 
Mariaker. Peradventure, you may find them on the very moor 
which was bedewed with the blood of the Thirty. Range these 
blocks in line of battle upon the place of the combat, as were 
ranged the champions of Brittany before the Marshal de BeaU' 
manoir. Summon thirty Breton artists, and, if artists are want* 
ing, summon workmen; order these simple statuaries to carve 
from each block a colossal knight, with his helm on head, his 
hand upon his sword, and his shield by his side ; all this to be 
naturally and largely indicated, as becomes men of iron sculptured 



■I 



INTEODTJCTION. 291 

in granite, txovided that the manly visage is distinguishable 
under the visor, that the outline of the human form is preserved, 
that the armour defines itself boldly against the sky, and that the 
pedestal and the statue form an indestructible mass, nothing more 
is wanted. Upon these thirty escutcheons engrave the thirty 
names and the thirty armorial bearings. Plant in the middle of 
the line an oak like that of Mi-Voie. Let it grow and spread 
itself out freely till it shall cover all the knights with its shade, 
xiiid when, one day, the traveller crossing this moor shall see 
rising before him this enormous tree, and those thirty stone 
warriors, whether the sun may project afar their gigantic sil- 
houettes, or the moon may multiply or render yet larger their 
phantoms, that traveller will recognise a nation which for three 
thousand years has repulsed the foreigner, and which yet knows 
how, like the ancient Druids, to erect memorial stones to its 
heroes." 

It may be mentioned that among the signatures of those who 
were not present at the ceremony of laying the first stone of the 
pyramidal monument to the Thirty, but who desired to subscribe 
the proces verbal, occur the names of the Due de Serent (the 
last descendant of Jean de Serent, one of the Thirty), who died 
n 2 



292 INTEODTJCTION. 

in 1822, without issue ; the Comte de Tinteniac, descendant of 
the renowned Sire de Tinteniac ; the Comte du Pare and the 
Vicomte Maurice du Pare, descendants of Maurice du Pare, one 
01 the Thirty. 

So great was the impression produced by the Battle of Mi- 
Voie, that, for more than a century after its occurrence, in 
Britanny, France, and England, it was a common expression to 
say, in allusion to any gallant or terrible action, "They fought as 
they did at the Combat of the Thirty." 

The memory of the famous combat, so dear to their national 
pride, is still fondly cherished by the Breton peasantry. To this 
day, Mr. Weld tells us, they chant its glories at their Pardons, 
in a ballad in the Cornouaille dialect, called "Stourm Ann 
Tregont." Mr. Weld also states that the same ballad was very 
generally sung by these sturdy peasants, to incite each other t 
Talour, during the Chouan war. 

Honour to the brave men, on either side, who fought by the' 
Mid-VTay Oak. Honour to those who fell. Honour to those 
who won. Honour to those who lost. Assuredly, we have no 
ki&nse to be ashamed of our share in the Combat of the Thirty. -. 



11 



I 



THE COMBAT OF THE THIRTY. 

Rere begins the Battle of Thirty Englishmen against Thirty 
Bretons^ which tooh place in Brittany in the year of Grace One 
Thousand Three Hundred and Fifty ^ on Saturday^ the Vigil of 
Sunday Lsetare Jerusalem.* 

The Defiance. 

I. 

Seigneurs, knights, barons, bannerets, and bachelors, I pray. 
Bishops and abbots, holy clerks, heralds and minstrels gay, 
Ye valiant men of all degrees, give ear unto my lay. 
Attend, I say, and ye shall hear how Thirty Englishmen, 
As lions brave, did battle give to Bretons three times ten. 
And sith the story of this fight I shall tell faithfully, 

» March 27, 1351. (New Style.) 



294 THE COMBAT OF THE THIRTY. 

A hundred years hereafter it shall remembered be, 

And warriors hoar recount it then to children on the knee. 

• 

n. 

In stories where good precept with ensample ye unite. 

All men of worth and wisdom take exceeding great delight ; 

Only envious knaves and faitours treat such ditties with despite. 

Wherefore, without further prelude, I will now the tale recite 

Of the Combat of the Thirty — that most memorable fight ! 

Beseeching Christ, our blessed Lord, in whom we place our 

trust. 

Pity to have on those who fought, sith most of them are dust.^ 



ra. 

Before the Castle of Aurai stout Daggeworth^ had been slain. 
Worsted in a rude encounter with the Barons of Bretaigne ; 



II 



1 Some of the Knights engaged in the Combat of Thirty were alive 
■when the author of the Lay wrote his Kelation. 

2 " Sir Thomas Daggeworth" (styled Dagorne in the Lay) " was 
appointed Commander in Brittany, by writ of privy seal, dated Beading, 
January 10, 1347." — Fcedera. Daggeworth commanded the Castle of 
Axirai for the Coimtess of Montfort. His defeat and death are thus 
described by Froissart. " In the beginning of August in the year 1350, 



THE COMBAT OF THE THIRTY. 295 

But liis death, as ye shall hear anon, proved a loss and not 

a gain. 
For while he ruled within Aurai no tiller of the soil, 
Nor any peaceful citizen the English mote despoil. 
But when he fell, Bembrough^ arose, a chief with iron hand, 
Who Daggeworth's treaty broke straightway, and ravaged all 

the land. 
"Now, by Saint Thomas!" Bembrough swore, "avenged shall 

Daggeworth be ! 
Such ingrate knaves as these to spare were sinful clemencj." 
And well he kept his ruthless vow, for when he took Ploermel, 
Small mercy did he show to those within his power who fell. 



Eaoul de Caliours and many other knights and squires, to the number of 
one hundred men-at-arms, or thereabouts, combated with the commander 
for the Kirsg of England in Brittany, called Sir Thomas Daggeworth, 
before the Castle of Aurai. Sir Thomas and all his men were slain, to 
the amount of about one hundred men-at-arms." 

1 Sir Eobert Bembrough. The author of the Lay calls him Bomeboure, 
and the French chroniclers write the name indifferently Bembro and 
Brandebourg. It has been conjectured that it might be Pembroke. 
Ormerod, in his Memoir of Sir Hugh Calverley, referring to the Combat 
of the Thirty, states that "the English commander at Ploermel is sup- 
posed to have been Sir Eichard Greenacre, of Merlay." 



296; HE COMBAT OE THE THIETT. 

Sore wasted he the country round, until that happy day 
When Beaumanoir, the Baron good, to Ploermel took his way ; 
From Josselin Castle did he come to aid the hapless folk 
Who groaned, unpitied, unrelieved, 'neath Bembrough's cruel 

yoke. 
As Beaumanoir and his esquires the English camp drew nigh. 
Full many a captive they beheld lamenting dolefully. 
For some they saw chained hax}-^ and foot — some by the thumbs 

were tied, — 
Together link'd by twos and threes — torment on every side. 

IV. 

When Beaumanoir and his esquires in Bembrough's presence 

stood, 
Thus haughtily the mail-clad throng bespoke the Baron good. 
" Ye knights of England, valiant sirs, I pray ye, list to me, 
The helpless captive to maltreat is shame to chivalry. 
And if the peaceful husbandman ye torture and ye kill, 
Whom shall ye find your vines to dress — who will your granaries 

fill? 
Trust me, brave sirs, ye do great wrong, and there an end must be. 
As ye do hope for grace yourselves, of this se\ierity." 



THE COMBAT OF THE THIRTY. 297 

" Baron de Beaamanoir," quoth Bembrough, " hold your peace, 
Eor till our conquest be assured, these things shall never cease. 
Question thereon there must be none. Now, mark well what I say. 
A noble duchy in Bretaigne Montfort shall have alway — 
Prom Pontorson to Nantes — from Nantes to Saint Mahe. 
This shall he ha\e. But of all France crown'd king shall 

Edward be, 
And so on every side extend our English mastery, 
Maugre the boastful French, and their allies, perdy !" 

Made answer then the Baron good, and stoutly thus did say— 
" Songez un autre songe, messire, cestui est mal songe. 
Not half a foot. Sir Eobert, shall you advance that way. 
A truce to idle taunts ! — fanfaronades are naught,— 
And those who loudest prate do least, as I've been taught. 
'Twere best, methinks, adjust our difference in this way 
By mortal combat in the field on some appointed day. 
Thirty 'gainst Thirty, an you list, together we will fight. 
With spear and sword, with axe and mawle, — and Heaven defend 
the right !" 

" Now, by ray soul !" cried Bembrough, "I heartily agree 
Unto your terms, and as you fix the combat, it shall be ;— 



298 THE COMBAT OF THE THIETT. 

Thirty 'gainst Tliirty of tlie best of either company, — 
And for the day — all days alike for fighting are to me !" 

Whereat he turned him to his Knights, laughing disdainfully. 

Then was the battle 'twixt them sworn, each plighting solemnly 
His knightly word to use thereat no base superchery. 
With one consent a day they named — it was the day before 
Laiare^ Sunday — when good men with gifts the altars store. 
The Vigil of Lcetare 'twas, — and would ye know the year ? — 
Pifty to Thirteen Hundred add, and ye shall have it clear. 
Now to the King of Glory let us offer earnest prayer. 
That those who fight for truth and right, He have within Bis 
care ! 

V. 

With lightened heart to Josselin did Beaumanoir return, 

Eager he was that all his knights the enterprise should learn , 

1 Mid-Lent Sunday, anciently called Lcetare Jerusalem, because on 
that day the introit of the Mass begins with those words. " In the 
former days of superstition," says Brande, "while that of the Eoman 
Catholics was the established religion, it was the custom for people to 
visit their Mother Church on Mid-Lent Sunday, and to make their offer- 
ings at the liigh altar." 



THE COMBAT Or THE THIRTY. 299 

And as the throng he thus bespoke, like fire their breasts did 

burn: 
"Seigneurs and valiant knights, this day have I defied 
Beinbrough to meet me in the field — Thirty on either side — 
And for companions in the fray we both may freely choose 
Such as the lance and battle-axe, and dagger best can use. 
Hence Thirty of the most expert amongst ye, sirs, I lack. 
Proud Bembrough and his chosen men like bears and wolves to 

hack. 

Trust me the fame of this emprise shall travel throughout Trance, 
From Bourgoigne to the Switzer's land, from Milan to Plaisance. 
How say ye, knights and barons bold ? — will ye not have it so ?" 

With one accord they made reply — " Thirty with you shall go. 
And when we meet them in the field these Englishmen shall feel 
What weighty blows, and well applied, a Breton arm can deal. 
Then choose the best amongst us, sir — Heaven grant good choice 

you make !" 
" Gramercy !" cried De Beaumanoir, " Tinteniac'' first I take, 

' Two ehampions of this name fought on Beaumanoir's side — the Sire 
de Tinteniac and Alain. The Lord of Tinteniac obtained the prize of 
valour on the part of the Bretons. 



300 THE COMBAT OF THE THIRTY. 

Next Gujf de Rochefort, Saint- Y von, and good Yves Charruel. 
Caron de Bosdegas be mine, with Robin Raguenel. 
Jean Rousselot, Geoffroy Du Bois, and valorous Arrel, 
My life upon it each of ye 'gainst Bembrough will fight well. 

" Thus far my knights I've ta'en. Esquires I next must choose — 

Guillaume de Montauban, I wot, my quest will not refuse ? 

Alain de Tinteniac I claim, Alain de Keranrais, 

Olivier, uncle to the last, and you, De Fontenay ? 

Tristan de Pestivien, and Louis Goyon brave, 

With Hugues Capus-le-Sage, sans question, I must have. 

Young Geoffroy de la Roche full soon shall knighted be. 

Whose valiant sire to fight the Turk* hath sailed across the sea. 

Poulard, Beaucorps, Pontblanc, ye twain De Trisquidys, 

Du Pare, Mellon, and De la Marche, — ye all must come with me. 

Jean de Serent I call on you, and Guillaume de la Lande ; 

And with Pachard and Monteville I shall complete my band." 

Now all, whom Beaumanoir did choose, returned him thanks 
straightway ; 

' Budes de la Eoche, father of the warrior mentioned in the ballad, 
fought at the Siege of Constantinople, and in Greece. 



THE COMBAT Or THE THIRTY. 301 

And for success upon their arms right fervently did pray. 
Heaven guard them well ! — and to their foes the disadvantage 

send, 
That for Bretaigne the coming fight triumphantly may end ! 

VI. 

Novr turn we to the other side, and let us see what way 
Haughty Sir Robert Benibrough chose his comrades for the fray. 
Sir Robert Knolles^ he first did take — next Sir Hugh Calverley,- 

1 " Sir Eobert Knolles (called Eobert Canoles in the Lay) was but of 
mean parentage in the county of Chester, but by his valour advanced from 
a common soldier in the French wars under Edward III. to a great 
commander. Being sent general of an army into France, in dislike of 
their power, he drove the people before him like sheep, destroying towns, 
castles, and cities, in such manner and number, that long after, in memory 
of this act, the sharp points and gable ends of overthrown houses and 
minsters were called KnoUes's Mitres. After which, to make himself 
well-beloved of his country, he built a goodly fair bridge at Rochester, 
over the Medway, with a chapel and chauntry at the east end thereof* 
He built much at the Greyfriars, London, and a hospital at Eome for 
English travellers and pilgrims. He deceased at his manor of Scone 
Thorpe, in Norfolk — was buried by the Lady Constance his wife, in the 
Church of Grej friars, London, 18th August, li07." — Weever's Funeral 
Monuments. Sir Eobert was created a Knight of the Garter by 
Eichard 11. 

2 This distinguished knight (Hue de Carualay, as he is styled in the 



302 THE COMBAT OF THE THIRTY. 

With Richard de la Laude — three better might not be. 
Herve de Lexualen came next, Walton and B61ifort, 
The last-named giant knight an iron mallet bore. 
Its weight was five and twenty pounds — yea, twenty-five and 
more ! 

His list of knights complete, proud Bembrough next essayed 
Esquires the hardiest to find, and thus his choice he made. 
John Plesington he fixed upon, Repefort, Le Marechal, 
Horouart and Boutet d'Aspremont, the stoutest of them all. 
Richard and Hugues, Le Gaillard named, Jennequin de Beton- 

champ. 
All these he took, and lastly chose Hucheton de Clamaban. 



Lay) was the eldest son of David Calverley (or Calveley), of Lea, in 
Cheshire. He first appeared as one of the combatants in the noted 
conflict described in the Lay ; next at the Battle of Aurai, 1364 ; then 
as a captain of Free Companies in the service of Henry of Trastamare ; 
and after other exploits too numerous to particularise, he ended his 
brilliant and adventurous career by founding a college at Bunbury, in 
his native county. " His body was interred in the chancel of his coUege, 
where his armed eifigy reposes on one of the most sumptuous altar-tombs 
that his county can boast." — Ormerod's Cheshire. It has been asserted, 
but not proved, that Sir Hugh Calverley married a queen of Arragon. 



THE COMBAT OF THE THIRTY. 303 

De Clamaban a falchion had as sharp as any dart. 

Wherewith he fought as legends tell of rojal Agapart, 

Each blow lopped off a head or limb, or pierced right to the heart. 

For men-at-arms of valour proved, Bembrough need not search far, 
tVithin the English camp, I trow, a hundred such there are ; 
But he who holds the foremost place is resolute Croquart. 
Next GaultierLallemant stands forth; and Guillemin-le-Gaillard ; 
Then Daggeworth, nephew to the chief, agile as is a pard ;^ 
Helcoq and Isannay come next, and Jennequin Taillard, 
Dardaine, Ades, Troussel,- and E,ango-le-Couart, 
De Gannelon and Helichon, Vitarfc and Melipart. 

Such were the Thirty Combatants on Bembrough's side enrolled ; 
'Midst them were twenty Euglishraen, as Libyan lions bold, 
Brabauters four, and Germans six ; — and thus the list is told. 

^ This young cLampion subsequently won his spurs, and as Sir 
Nicholas Daggeworth. fought during the Siege of Eennes, in 1357, in 
single combat with the redoubted Bertrand du Guesclin. "The terms 
of the combat," according to Froissart, "were to be three courses with, 
spears, three strokes with battle-axes, and three stabs with, daggers. The 
two knights behaved most valiantly, and parted without hurting each 
other. They were seen with pleasure by both armies." 

* Called John Russel, in the Histoire de Bretagne. 



304« THE COMBAT OF THE THIllTX. 

Furnished they were with habergeons, bacinets, and greaves, I 

ween, 
And armed with falchion, lance and sword, war-axe and dagger 

keen. 
To list their braggart talk woula move the moodiest man to mirth, 
Thirty to match them, it would seem, could not be found on earth. 
By Christ, they sware, that Beaumanoir and his companions brave 
To death were doomed, and all Bretaigne to Dinan they would 

have! 
But Beaumanoir lie boasted not, but reverently prayed 
The mighty Ruler of Events a rightful cause to aid ! 



305 



Of the Combat, and the great feats of arms done thereat. 

I. 

Now when the day appointed for the combat had arrived, 

De Beaumanoir and all his knights by holy priests were shrived; 

At early dawn they mass did hear, then to the altar led. 

They knelt them down, and took the cup, and ate the sacred bread. 

n. 
*' Good sirs," quoth lordly Beaumanoir, while marshalling his band. 
Be of stout heart, and valiantly these Englishmen withstand. 
And if Christ Jesus in his grace shall give us mastery, 
Throughout the realm entire of France rejoicing there shall be ; 
And Charles de Blois of Brittany, — Duke Charles the Debonair,-— 
He and his gracious Duchess Jeanne, valiant and wise as fair, — 
Mine own right-noble kinswoman — great love for us shall bear 
Then before God, the mighty God of Battles, let us swear, 

X 



306 THE COMBAT OF THE THIRTY. 

That if proud Bembrougli and his host we find in yonder plciin, 
Not one of all their lineage shall see their face again !" 

III. 
That morn, betimes, bold Bembrough, with his gallant company 
Of thirty fearless combatants, unto the field did hie. 

Now would ye know the spot whereon this famous fight befel, 
Midway it lies 'twixt Josselin and the Castle of Ploermel. 
A solitary tree doth grow on the far-stretching plain, 
Known as the Mid- Way Oak^ — lon^ may that mark remain ! 

^Y\len. to the place of rendezvous proud Bembrough had drawn 

nigh, 
Unto his thirty men-of-arms he thus spake boastfully : 
"My magic books I've caused be read,^ and Merlin unto me 
Doth prophesy, upon this day, a signal victory. 

' Xe Chesne den my vole, ainsi est son appel. 

2 J'ai fait lire mes livres. " This expression," Mr. Weld remarks, 
" 13 explained by the fact that the knights and gentry of the period 
referred to in the poem were unable to read." But it may also imply 
that the superstitious English leader, being unable to decipher the mystic 
characters on his scrolls, caused them to be interpreted to him. 



THE COMBA.T OP THE THIRTY. 307 

Be confident, then, valiant sirs, as well, I wot, ye may, 

Por of the host of Beanmanoir few shall survive the day. 

And such as shall surrender in the combat I ordain 

In his name, shall to Edward good, our sovran lord, be ta'en. 

An earnest shall they be to him, that not alone Bretaigne 

But all the realm of fertile France shall to his crown pertain !" 

Thus spake SirEobert Bembrough, thus spake he as he thought ; 
But if it please the King supreme with whom all kings are nought. 
Things to a different issue far shall surely yet be brought. 

IV. 

As BembrougKand his company by the Mid-Way Oak did halt, 
"Wliere art thou, Beanmanoir ?" h^ cried, " I have thee it de- 
fault : 
Hadst thou been here full speedily discomfited thou'dst been." 

E'en as the words fell from his lips De Beanmanoir -was seen. 

"Ho ! Beaumanoirl" cried Bembrough, then, "good friends we 

yet may be. 
If to adjourn this combat sworn we both of us agree ; 
X 2 



308 THE COMBAT Or THE THlETr. 

License to fight from my liege lord, great Edward, I'll obtain. 
And from the King of Saint-Denis, like license thou shalt gain. 
This done, our compact we'll renew, and fi^x at once the day."* 
"Counsel I'll take," quoth Beaumanoir, sternly, **oe what you 



V. 

Without more words, the Baron good did to his men return. 
And while he thus bespoke the throng, with wrath his cheeks 

did burn : 
" How think ye, sirs ?" he scornful laughed, " Bembrough would 

have us go 
Back from this field, where we have come to fight, without a 

blow. 
He would adjourn the combat, sirs. Speak ! will ye have it so ? 



ITiis hesitation on the part of Bemhrough would appear, at firsts to 
be irreconcilable with his previous address to his followers, as well as with 
his own subsequent conduct. But it seems to have occurred to him 
(somewhat too late his opponent thought) that the combat between 
himself and Beaumanoir, unauthorized by their respective sovereigns 
would be irregular, and ought, therefore, to be deferred till due license 
for it could be obtained. 



THE COMBAT OF THE THIETT. 309 

For mine own part I swear to you — and Heaven the truth doth 

know ! — 
For all the treasure upon earth, I'd not the fight forego !" 

Then out and spake Yves Charruel, with choler raging iiot — 
Betwixt the sea and where they stood a bolder knight was not : 
" Sir, here are thirty men-at-arms have come unto this spot, 
Tough spear, martel, and battle-axe, dagger and sword we've 

got; 
Keady prepared we are to fight, and by Saint-Honor6 ! 
With Bembrough and his fellowship we mean to fight to-day. 
We mean to fight and vanquish those base braggarts, since they 

dare 
Dispute the title of the land with the Duke Debonair. 
Perish the dastard vile I say, who tamely would go back. 
And when his foes before him stand, would not those foes 

attack!" 

" Thou «?ayest well, Yves Charruel, to go back were foul scorn ; 
The combat we will have with them, even as it hath been 
sworn." 



310 THE COMBAT OE THE THIETT^ 
VI. 

" Benibrough," quoth lordly Beaumanoir, as toward him he did 

turn, 
" Hear what my brave companions say— thy offer they do spurn. 
Shameful thej hold 'twould be in us the combat to delay, 
Wliich thou hast proffered Charles de Blois, through me and 

mine to-day. 
We all have sworn, that in the sight of the Barons of Bretaigne, 
Thou and thy fellowship this day shall shamefully be slain !" 

"Tush, Beaumanoir," Lembrough cried out, "mere folly thou 

wilt do. 
And, when too late, thy rashness great full bitterly thou'lt rue. 
For the flower of all thy duchy shall upon this plain be left. 
And thy liege lord of his noblest and his bravest be bereft." 

^^ (Sir Bobert," answered Beaumanoir, " I utterly deny,' 
That I unto this held have brought the flower of Brittany. 
Ex)kan, Laval, and Loheac, aud Quentin are not here. 
And many other noble knights of prowess without peer ; 
But I have with me thirty men who nothing living fear 



THE COMBAT OE THE THIllTX. 311 

Thirty clean men-of-arms, who practise not treason or perfidj — 
And all have sworn, ere compline-time, thou and thy host shall 
die!" 

Then to him Bembrough ansv^o* made, laughing disdainfully : 
" Less than a clove of garlic rank, proud lord, I value thee ; 
Thy fellowship I hold a& cheap, and will have mastery. 
Ail Brittany shall soon be ours, and eke all JS^ormandy." 

Then turning to his company, he shouted lustily, 

" Upon them ! — strike these Bretons down, and put them to the 

sword ! 
Spare none ! — to work us deadly harm they all are of accord.'* 

vn. 
Unto their leaders' battle-cries loud shouts responsive rose. 
Impatient were the sixty all from words to come to blows. 
Like bolts unto the fray they rush; the shock is fierce and 

dread ■, 
Yves Charruei is prisoner ta'en, Mellon is stricken dead. 
Tristan dc Pestivien, that squire of stature high. 
By blow from Belifort's rude mawle is wounded grievously. 



312 THE COMBAT OF THE THIRTT. 

Sore hurt is Pousselot, the brave. And I may not deny 
The Bretons have the worst. — Saints, to their succour fly ! 

Tin. 
Fierce does the conflict rage, loud do the blows resound ; 
Caron de Bosdegas, senseless, is on the ground. 
And brave De Pestivien, who all- disabled lies, 
On Beauiiianoir for aid thus dolorously cries : 
"Help me, good Baron, help me straight; if I be captive 

ta*en 
By these infuriate Englishmen, thou'lt see me ne'er again." 

IX. 

Then Beaumanoir he sware by Christ, who on the tree was 

tied, 
Ere that should be, full many a shield and hawberk should be 

tried! 
Heraou he flung his spear aside, and out his good sword drew ; 
And all who came within its range he quickly overthrew. 
But by his deeds the Englishmen were in no wise dismayed; 
And lion hearts on either side, the combatants displayed. 



THE COMBAT OF THE THIETT. 313 

Wearied, at length, with such great toil, they on a truce 
agreed, 

And for a while repose they took, whereof all stood in need. 

With good wine of Anjou full soon their thirst they did allay. 

And, thus refreshed, thfe deadly strife they recommenced straight- 
way. 



3U 



Fei more of the same Combat j how Sir liohert Bembrough was 
slain : and of the shrewd device of Guillaume de Montauban, 
gained the Day. 



I. 

Again the conflict rages fierce — again blows loud resound, 
And splintered spears and battered helms bestrew the blood- 
stained ground. 
The Bretons have the worst of it — it may not be gainsaid, 
Eor two of them are slain outright, and three are prisoners made; 
Thus twenty -five alone are left. Christ Jesu lend them aid ! 
Then Geoffroy de La Roche, an esquire of high degree, 
Knighthood besought from Beaumanoir upon his bended knee. 
Whereon tiie Baron dubbed him straight, and thus said heartily : 
" My fair, sweet son, spare not thyself, but emulate the knight. 
Thy valiant sire, Budes de La Roche, who at Stamboul did fight. 



THE COMBAT OP THE THIllTX. 315 

Swear, and may Mary Mother be gracious unto tliee ! 
That, ere the hour of complines, our foes shall woiiLed be !" 

These words bold Bembrough overheard, and seeking how to 

flout 
The noble Breton chivalry, he scornfully cried out : 
" Render thyself quick, Beaumanoir, and I will promise thee 
Thy life, for I design thee as a present to my 71116^ 
Eor I have vowed before her, and my vow I will not break, 
That thee this night unto her bower I will as captive take." 

Then grimly answered Beaumanoir, "I'll do as much by thee; 
Thy gory head I'll send this night as a bauble to my mie. 
The die is cast, and thou must stand the hazard ; if it be 
Agauist thee, by Saint Yves thy soul shall from thy body flee !" 

n. 

Now Eembrough's taunts had roused the ire of rough De Keren- 

rais, 
And thrusting toward the English chief he fiercely thus did 

say : 



316 THE COMBAT OF THE THIRTY. 

" Presumptuous traitor, dost thou deem that thou canst captive 

take 
A noble knight like Beaumanoir thy mistress sport to make. 
Beshrew thee ! — never more thy tongue shall utter jape and jeer. 

On this he smote him 'twixt the eyes with the sharp point of his 

spear. 
Eight to the brain the steel did pierce as after did appear.* 
Albeit wounded mortally. Sir Robert yet regained 
His feet, and would with Kerenrais brief conflict have maintained; 
But that Du Bois, discerning him, like lightning towards him sped 
And smote him with his spear so hard, that down he fell stark 

dead. 

" Ho ! Beaumanoir !" DuBois cried out, " behold thy haughty toe 
Upon the ground, like a slaughtered hound, doth breatliless lie and 

low !" 
When this he heard, the Baron good made answer joyfully : 
•* The time is come when we must needs double our energy; 
Return ye to the fray at once, and let this dead man be." 

> Que par my le visage, sy que chacun I'a veu, 
Jusques en la cervele lui a le fer embatu. 



THE COMBAT OF THE THIETY. 317 

in. 
Meanwhile, the English men-of-arms, they all of them have seen 
What sore mischance befallen hath thek boastful chief, I ween. 
When brave Croquart, the Almayn, thus to animate them strives. 
** Too true it is— alack ! too trae — no longer Bembrough lives. 
His magic books by Merlin writ, in which he put his faith. 
Have played him false, since they could not forewarn him of his 

death. 
But though our leader we have lost, yet be ye of good cheer. 
Do as I counsel ye, brave sirs, and ye have nought to fear. 
Keep close together, back to back, — keep close, betide what may ; 
And all who venture on attack, ye so shall maim or slay. 
Heavens ! how 'twill anger Beaumanoir, if he shall lose the day " 

IV. 

Hereon arose De Bosdegas, and brave Yves Charruel, 
And Tristan, who was hurt full sore, — as erstwhile I did tell. 
To Bembrough, when he captured them, parole they gave all three, 
But Bembrough being slain, ye wot, they from parole were free. 
Their shields they dressed, their swords they gat, then to the fray 

did hie, 
Burning for vengeance on their foes, vowing they all should die. 



31 S THE COMBAT OF THE THTETT. 

V. '■■ 

.Tvotr thoiigli the hardy English chief, bold Bembrough he is 

Sti!l <''7*'>iisly as heretofore, the conflict rages on. 

Great smiting is tliere of their swords, great splinterinr' of spears, 

And Ihcir broad shields in cantels fly, while blood their harness 

smears. 
Nsthe'.ess, the English yet can connt full many a stalwart knight, 
Whose strength and prowess doubtful make the issue of the fight. 
Croquart the dauntless, Belifort that knight of giant mould, — 
Who, like a toy within his grasp, his ponderous mawle doth 

hold,^-- 
Both these are left ; and left also is Hugh de Calverley, 

1 Grrose, in his Treatise on Ancient Armour, mates mention of B^ifort's 
formidable weapon, calling it " a leaden mallet, weighmg twenty-five 
pounds." The writer of the Lay, however, is particular upon the point, 
for he says : 

" Tommelin Belifort qui moult s^ut de renart, 
Cil combatoit d'un mail qui pesoit bien le quart 
De cent livres d'achier" 
And again: 

" Et Thomas Belifort y fu comme gu^ant, 
Cil combatoit d'un mail d'achier qui fu pesant.** 



THE COMBAT OE THE THIRTY. 319 

With crafty Knolles, and many more. — And thus they fiercely cry, 
"Vengeance for Bembrough we will have — spare none ! but hew 

them down — 
And victory shall crown our arms, ere yet the sun go down." 

But Beaumanoir, who never did at face of peril quail, 
Seeing the English stand aloof, would closely them assail. 
And then began a strife so dread, that one incessant clang 
Of weighty blows on helm and shield far o'er the wide moor 

rang. 
Already two brave Englishmen and an Almayn stout are 

slain ; 
Geoffroy Poulard in death doth sleep, and near him lies Dardaine. 
E'en Beaumanoir himself is hurt. — Be pity on them ta'en ! 
Or not a ^nan on either side shall e'er draw sword again. 

VII. 

But fiercely yet the fight doth rage — loudly the blows resound— 
Witb streams of mingled blood and sweat blusheth the trampled 
ground.* 

* De sueur et de sane la teiTe rosoya. 



320 THE COMBAT OF THE THIEIT. 

The day is passing hot, I ween— for the sun iu heaven doth 

blaze, 
And the combatants are bathed in sweat beneath his burning 

rajs. 

Now pious Beaumanoir that day had fasted rigorously, — 
*Twas Mid-Lent vigil, and such fasts he kept religiously— 
And being faint and sore athirst, for water he did cry. 
Hearing the cry, Geoffroy Du Bois in accents stern did say, 
*' Drink thy own blood, De Beaumanoir, thy thirst 'twill quench 

straightway."^ 
Roused by these words of rough rebuke, and full of wrath and 

pain. 
The Baron good forgot his thirst, and joined the fray again. 

VIII. 

Within a bowshot of the Oak, where grow the genists green,^ 
Like iron wall, immovable, the English band is seen. 



1 Beaumanoir, hois ton sang ! became afterwards the war-cry of the 
family. 

* Le lone dun genestaj qui estoit vert et beL 



THE COMBAT OF THE THIETT. 321 

There Calverley ye may discern, the hardy jovencei,^ 

Gigantic Belifort also, armed with his dire martel. 

When Beaumanoir he found it vain to break their firm array, 

Had not Saint Michael lent him aid he must have felt dis- 
may. 

But brave Du Bois, who near him stood, and saw his visage 
fall, 

Essayed by cheerful look and speech his stout heart to recal. 

"Look around you, gentle Baron," quoth Du Bois, "and you 
will see 

That the bravest and the best are left of all your company. 

Tinteniac, Yves Charruel, and Robin Raguenel, 

With De La Marche abide as yet, and Olivier Arrel. 

De Rochefort he doth yonder stand — ^you may note his pen- 
noncel.^ 

Weapons for service lack we not — spear, sword, and dagger 
keen — 

And hands to use them we have got, as our foes know well, I 
ween." 

1 Carualay, le vaillant, le hardy jovencel. 
2 The small, swallow-tailed flag attached to the lance of a knight. 



322 THE COMBAT OF THE THIETT. 
IX. 

Terrific is the conflict now — ne'er hath been seen the like ! — 
Incessantly the welkin rings with the great blows they strike. 
The Bretons hurl against their foes ; but moveless as a rock, 
The English phalanx firm withstands the fury of the shock.i 
Guillaume de Montauban hereon, that brave and subtle squire, 
Seeing how matters stood with them, did from the press retire. 
His breast swelled high with secret hope, and loudly he cried out, 
That if a charger he could get, he would the English rout. 

* In the editton of the " Combat des Trente" printed by M. Crapelet 
in 1827, from the manuscript in the Bibliotheque Eoyale, occur the 
following remarks in reference to the disposition of the English in the 
conflict. " It was within a hair's breadth that the position taken by the 
..English did not procure them the honour of the day. The ardour and 
impetuosity of the Bretons would have been soon exhausted against this 
wall of iron ; and tired of striking, after their first attack, they would 
themselves have fallen under the blows of their enemies. It is thus, that 
in the hapless days of Crecy and Poitiers, the sang-froid and discipline, 
of the English troops triumphed over the number and valour of the 
French armies; in the same manner that at Eontenoy a column of 
English infantry sustained the shock of all the French regiments that 
came in succession to break themselves against its immovable mass ; until 
at last, impaired by the artillery, it was forced into retreat, which it 
effected by falling back, always close serried, and in good order. History 
thus offers the most useful lessons of every kind, which, too often, rer 
without frmt for the people." 



THE COMBAT OF THE THIKTT. 323 

Sh9vp-rowelled spurs he fastened ou, . then horsed him quiet, 

I wist, 
^nd a great iron-headed spear he took within his fist. 
Yet toward the Enghsh rode he not, but semblance made to fly. 

Astonied mightily and wrath, De Beaumanoir did cry, 
" Whither so fast, De Montauban ?— what art thou, friend, about ? 
Is it by flying from the field that thou thy foes wouldst rout ^ 
Turn thee for very shame, false squire !" The other loud laughed 

out, 
" Mind thy own business, Beaumanoir, and certes thou shalt find 
As thou art frank and vaHant knight, my business well I'll mind. 

Then rowel-deep the spurs he plunged into his charger's flanks, 
And wheeling round with lightning speed dashed towards the 

English ranks. 
With the first shock seven doughty foes — yea, seven! — were 

overturn'd ; 
And other three he trampled down, as quickly he returned. 

By this great stroke De Montauban the English phalanx broK?- 
Into disorder threw them all, and their high courage shook. 

y2 



324« THE COMBAT OE THE THIRTY. 

Each Breton kniglit, as pleased him then, a captive straightway 

took. 
And while the prisoners gave parole, De Montanban did cry, 
" Now is the time ! — strike. Barons brave ! Montjoie and victory ! 
Tintenidc, Yves Charruel, and Guy de Rochefort brave, 
Strike all of ye with double force, and conquest ye shall have. 
Christ Jesus in his clemency avert from you all ill ! 
Aid help you on these Englishmen to work your vengeful will.'* 



Yet still the conflict is not o'er, but rages fiercely on. 

'Midst those who fought with Beaumanoir Tinteniac best hath 

done, 
And on this memorable day hath palm of valour won. 
But few upon the English side the combat now sustain. 
Far some are captives on parole, and others have been slain. 
Sir Robert Knolles and Calverley are in great jeopardy, 
And so is giant Belifort, despite his bravery. 

Vainly they struggle on. — 'Tis o'er with every squire and knight 
Who came that day in company with Bembrough to the fight. 



THE COMBAT OF THE THIRTY. ~ 325 

John Plesington, Helcoq, Eepefort, and Richard de La Lande, 
With more to Josselin now are ta'en by Beaumanoir's command. 

XT. 

Oft shall they of this famous fight, in after times, hear tell, 

Por all its matchless feats of arms remembered are right well. 

Pictured they are in castle-hall on gorgeous tapestry. 

And sung in ditties of our old Armoric chivalry.^ 

Full many a squire and hardy knight shall the stirring tale relate. 

Full many a dame of beauty bright shall it serve to recreate. 

And all shall glow as when they read of Guillaume D'Aquitaine,^ 

Of Arthur and of Oliver, Roland and Charlemagne. 

Three hundred years hereafter — nay, a thousand ! — they shall hear 

Of this Combat of the Thirty, which, I ween, was without peer. 

1 Guillaume, Duke of Aquitaine, named also de Gellone, flourislied 
in the time of Charlemagne, and was beloved by that prince, who em- 
ployed him usefully against the Saracens. His deeds of arms form the 
subject of a romance, or rather warlike song, composed towards the end 
of the ninth century, or the beginning of the tenth, under the title of 
Bomande Chiillaume ati court nez"—Bioff. Universelle. 



326 THE COMBAT or the tkiutt. 

Geeat was the battle, doubt it not, and great the change it 

wrought. 
Shame on those enviousEnglishmen — shame and defeat it brou^'it. 
Who Brittany, before that day, to subjugate had thought. 

Kow lo Jesu, born of Mary, let us reverently pray. 
That, by His intercession, all those valiant foemen may 
Compassion find from pitying Heaven upon the Judgment Day ! 
May Saint Michael and Saint Gabriel plead for them with the 

Lord, 
That to their souls at that dread houj his grace He may accord ! 

Here erdeth the Battle of Thirty 'Englishmen and Thirty 
Bretons^ which took 'place m Brittany in the year of 
Grace, One Thousand Three Hundred and Fifty, on 
the Saturday before Lsetare Jerusalem. 

THE EKD. 



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